


if you want, i'll meet you back in rome

by lolamit



Category: The Book of Mormon - Ambiguous Fandom, The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Character Study, First Everything, First Kiss, First Time, Inspired by Music, Italy, M/M, Meet-Cute, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rome - Freeform, Some Humor, Summer Romance, but also not? but also kinda?, god this sounds so sappy already, kind of anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:48:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26397436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lolamit/pseuds/lolamit
Summary: despite the pain you still remainthe greatest work of artin monochromebecause you made the foreign feel like homeso if you want, I’ll meet you back in RomeIn which Kevin goes to Europe to figure himself out, only to bump into Connor McKinley.
Relationships: Elder "Connor" McKinley/Kevin Price
Comments: 87
Kudos: 37





	1. singing happy tunes in days of june instead of making small talk

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a song I wrote after going to Rome a few years back, because I'm sappy like that.
> 
> Italicized parts are letters written by Kevin to Connor (but never sent).

_Seattle, Washington_  
_Present day_

  


Today’s the day. It’s been ten years, exactly ten years, since Kevin’s life changed forever. He never thought he’d have the courage to go through with it, thought he’d retreat in his shell and live off the memories alone, always expecting the worst, yet hoping for the best. Praying is a rarity these days, and still, he finds himself on his knees by his bedside, clutching the letter in hand as he mouths a plea, his eyes pressed shut with great concentration. 

God never answers anyway. Perhaps he still listens – lends an ear to another voice stripped bare of any faith, any belief that life isn’t just a string of coincidences, occurring one after the other until the last. Listens, maybe, but cares? 

Kevin laughs despite himself. 

With a steady grip on the envelope, he speaks a conclusive amen before scrambling to his feet. And he’s out the front door a few seconds later, walking with adamant steps toward the mailbox sitting on the sidewalk, not far from his apartment. 

He stops before it, eyeing the opening as though he’s staring into the jaws of defeat. 

Today’s the day. It could change his life again, or it could crush the last sliver of hope his body has survived on for the past ten years. 

With a deep and shaky breath, he lets the letter go, falling into the box and out of his reach. It’s too late to go back now. 

Ironically, that’s precisely what he’s hoping to do.

* * *

_Rome, Italy_  
_Ten years ago_

  


The sun was high in the sky when the train rolled into the station. Idle conversations flowed through his ears and he did his very best to ignore them. It wasn’t very difficult to be fair, since most of them weren’t even speaking English, and Kevin had the unfortunate luck of being the kind of tourist everyone loved to hate – an American. 

It would have been funnier had he gone to Paris first, but alas, he sucked at planning. So much so that the only real plan he had for this trip was to _have fun_. Whatever that meant. For almost his entire life, the word fun had been exclusively synonymous with the Church. Scripture reading, proselytizing, hell, even praying had been considered a ‘fun time activity’. So, when he’d suddenly fallen from grace, he had found his personality was flatter than some claimed the earth to be. He didn’t have one independent bone in his body, not a single leg to stand on when asked about his interests. Kevin Price was _boring_. And that simply wasn’t acceptable. 

That’s how he ended up here – in Rome, the very summer he should have left for his mission as a devout Mormon. His mother had cried, his father had rolled his eyes, and his brother had said nothing in their presence, but had hugged him later, and told him not to forget him, as though Kevin could ever. Family had always been one of the most important things in his life, and Jack just so happened to be his favorite person in the group. 

  


His hotel wasn’t anything much, but it was enough for the few days he planned on staying. Not that he had money to splurge on fancy hotel suites and three-course dinners anyway, but he’d be caught dead before sharing a bathroom with strangers. 

After checking in, he made his way up to the fourth floor, finding his room at the far end of the corridor and pushing the door open with a sigh. The room was small but had its charm, neatly styled with dark colors that felt innately foreign to the clean, white walls he’d grown up within. Along the wall stood a double bed, and beside it a desk with an array of informational folders and hotel menus. Despite himself, though, he couldn’t help but thank God when he spotted the minibar. He had never understood hotels that didn’t at least give the option of refrigerated drinks, even if he planned on taking all its contents out, not touch them for the entirety of his stay, fill the fridge with a bunch of cheap stuff he’d get at the closest grocery store, and then put them all back before leaving. They should at least give him the goddamned option of buying the smallest pack of m&m’s he’s ever seen for ten bucks. 

The window on the far wall would have overlooked the city, had there not been a building right outside it. He didn’t mind too much, though. He didn’t plan on spending his time cooped up inside four walls, anyway. He was here to _have fun_ , remember? 

  


It was around four in the afternoon when he made it back outside, the sun still scorching hot against his skin, yet as he made his way down the street, he couldn’t help but smile a bit. He’d never been abroad before, and he hadn’t anticipated it being quite this breathtaking. If he thought Utah had a rich history, he could only assume how much richer the very pavement he walked on probably was. 

The buildings stood tall and mostly colorful, not like the bland, gray skyscrapers he was used to. He felt as though every brick, every cobblestone, had its own story, going back centuries in time. If these walls could talk, Kevin would listen forever. 

After a while, he came to a stop outside a small restaurant. Or, well, it looked small from the outside, but once he stepped foot inside, he realized the room stretched far, far back, and seemingly, down a floor as well. Before he had time to think, really, a man suddenly appeared in front of him, and he looked, well… Not very Italian, even though he chastised himself for so much as thinking it. One thing he’d promised himself when leaving the Church was to try, to the best of his efforts, not to judge. Anyone. 

Yet here he was, frowning at the pale complexion and blue eyes on the man stood before him, glancing up at his hair, neatly styled and dark blonde before he caught himself. 

“Buongiorno,” said the man. 

Right. That meant… something. Hello, assumably, yet Kevin’s brain only managed a, “Ciao,” in response. 

The man smiled. “English?” 

A breath of relief escaped his lips despite trying to conceal it. “Yes, please.” 

“Table for one?” he asked, speaking with an accent not very different from Kevin’s own. 

“Yes.” 

The man nodded once, flashed a smile before turning on his heel. “Right this way, sir.” 

_Sir_. Kevin had never been called sir in his entire life. He was nineteen, for crying out loud, and the waiter didn’t look to be much older either. 

He was seated at a small table by the window, and thankfully, the area around him wasn’t too crowded, so he felt quite at ease, even as the waiter smiled as he handed over a menu. Kevin dared a smile back, you know the kind that isn’t so much a smile as it is forcing the corners of your mouth to broaden at a slight arch, resulting in the most strained expression a smile could be manifested into. Really, it was the same face he pulled when awkwardly holding the elevator for someone, or nearly colliding with someone walking in the other direction and they both step to the same side to avoid the collision, making him stumble over his own feet as he tries to simultaneously figure out where the stranger plans to step next while trying to kickstart his stalled brain. It’s not pretty, to put it simply. 

There’s a brief twitch in the corner of the man’s lips before he excuses himself to tend to another customer. Kevin can’t help but wince. Why did he have to be so awkward all the time? No, really, he’s asking. When did that happen? Kevin used to be the person everyone wanted to hang around, the person every kid wanted to be, and the kid every parent wanted. The devout, obedient son of similar parents, never asking why or how, but doing – without question – and doing good. 

He’d go so far, his father used to tell him. He’d be the president of the Church one day if he wanted to. And he did. Or used to, at least. 

_God_ , he had _everything_ , and he threw it all away because of what? A fragment of a thought crystallizing in his mind, the hollow, disheartening realization that Heavenly Father, whether he existed or not, had let down more people than he’d saved. 

Moments later, snapping Kevin out of his thoughts, the waiter was back, notepad in hand, and watching Kevin with expectant eyes. 

“What?” he deadpanned, worried the man had spoken before his brain had focused on the here and now of things. 

“You ready to order?” said the man, and Kevin could see the slightest glint of amusement in his eyes. 

“Oh, um,” he said, glancing down at the menu he had paid absolutely no attention to whatsoever, and decided on the first item he spotted. “Stroz- um, strozzapreti alla norcina,” came his very terrible attempt at pronouncing the dish. “Oh god, I completely butchered that, didn’t I?” 

The man laughed. “Oh, I’ve heard worse, don’t worry,” he said, scribbling the order down before meeting Kevin’s eyes again. “And to drink?” 

It hit him then, that the legal drinking age in Italy was eighteen. When in Rome, and all that right? Surely, that included alcohol. 

“Um,” he started, realizing only a moment later that he didn’t exactly know of any alcoholic beverages. “Do you have wine?” 

The waiter’s lips twitched again, and he pressed them together for a brief moment before parting them to speak. “We’re in Italy, sir,” he said, a warm, if not slightly entertained smile on his face. “Might I ask to see some ID, though?” 

“Oh,” said Kevin, his hands immediately beginning to dig through his pockets until he found his license. “Here.” 

“Utah,” the man noted, his eyes flicking up to compare the face in front of him to the one in his hand. “Mormon state.” 

That felt like a strange thing for a non-American to know. Coupled with his flawless English, Kevin began wondering if he actually were Italian. 

When Kevin didn’t answer, the waiter handed his license back with a smile. “So what would you like?” 

“Wine.” 

“Right,” laughed the man, his eyes scrutinizing as they waited for information that never came. “Would I be wrong to assume you’ve never tried it before?” 

Kevin opened his mouth as if to protest, only to realize he never _had_ tried it before. He hadn’t so much as tasted alcohol in his entire life, because that wasn’t what good Mormons did. 

“No,” he admitted, and the man gave a slow nod. 

“Would you mind if I picked one out for you?” he asked, both confidently and with slight hesitation. “Some of our wines are kind of an acquired taste – trust me, I can barely get them down. I would suggest something a bit more… beginner-friendly, so to speak.” 

Kevin didn’t know what that meant, but he nodded as though it hadn’t just flown right over his head. “Sounds good.” 

“Great,” said the waiter with a smile. “I’ll be right back.” 

  


Only a few minutes passed before a glass of what Kevin could only assume was white wine was placed in front of him. 

“Riesling,” the waiter clarified. “It’s very sweet. Should go well with the pasta too. One of my favorites.” 

Kevin nodded, holding the glass the way he’s seen people in movies do. He even looked around at the other customers, to make sure he was doing it right before he took a sip, a very small, slightly hesitant one that really only grazed his lips. “It’s good,” he said to the glass, going in for another taste. 

“Good,” said the man, seeming content with his choice. “Let me know if it’s not to your liking and I’ll get you something else.” 

“I will,” said Kevin after another sip, and offered a small smile that the man instantly mirrored. “Thanks.” 

“Prego,” said the man. “Your food will be out in a while.” 

Kevin watched as he turned around and left, disappearing down the flight of stairs near the entrance. When he was sure the waiter was gone, he dug up the smallest of dictionaries from his pocket – it really was tiny, about the size of his license and fitted with about eight hundred equally tiny pages – and searched it until he found the word _prego_.
    
    
       ‘prego
          int
            _(non c'è di che)_ **don't mention it!;** _(per favore)_ **please;**
              **ˈprego?** = I beg your pardon?;
              **posso?** - **ˈprego** = may I? - please do 

Okay. Yeah, that makes sense.

Once he had stuffed the dictionary back in his pocket, he picked the glass back up and took another sip. Then another. And another. And another, and then the taste started feeling a lot more familiar against his tongue, so he took a gulp, and Jesus Christ, it wasn’t bad. It wasn’t bad at all. 

This is what he’s been avoiding all his life? Granted, he’s only nineteen, so he wouldn’t _technically_ have had any reason to try it, but he’s seen at least one high school movie with the sacrilegious scenes uncut to know that underage drinking is, in fact, a very common thing in America. He was willing to bet it was even somewhat common among Mormons. Just not the amazing ones, aka the category Kevin had been the prime example of, you know, before he wasn’t anymore. 

He wasn’t sure exactly how much time had passed when the blonde-haired waiter arrived with his food, but he was acutely aware that his wine glass now stood empty which did not go unnoticed. 

“It was really good,” said Kevin, his face flushing slightly. 

“I’m glad,” said the man, his movements tentative as he placed the dish on the table. “Normally, I’d ask if you wanted a refill but seeing as this is your first time… I don’t know your limit.” 

There was a tenderness in his voice when he spoke, or perhaps Kevin was reading into it too much. But he couldn’t disregard the slight crease in the man’s forehead, his brows pulled together if only a little, into an almost inconspicuous frown that Kevin couldn’t help but stare at. 

“I feel fine,” he said, because he did. “A bit fuzzy. I could do another.” 

“Are you sure?” The frown grew more pronounced. “I don’t mean to impose but, um. Correct me if I’m wrong but your ID said nineteen, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And you’re here alone?” Kevin nodded. “Right, so I just wanna make sure that you’ll find your way back to wherever you’re staying.” 

And then it was Kevin’s turn to furrow his eyebrows. “Will I really get drunk off two glasses?” 

The man smiled, exhaling a short breath through his nose. “It took me three my first time, but I don’t know, maybe your tolerance is higher,” he said with a small shrug. “If you don’t mind, though. I’d stick to one tonight – maybe two tomorrow, work your way up, you know?” 

Kevin considered it. He _had_ quite enjoyed the taste, more than he’d anticipated anyway, but maybe the guy was right. He didn’t want to get drunk and consequentially murdered his first night abroad. That would kind of really prove everybody’s point but Kevin’s. 

“Alright,” he said eventually. “I’ll have a coke, then.” 

The man smiled. “I’ll get that for you right away.”

* * *

_Logan, Utah_  
_Eight years ago_

  


_The first time I saw you, I passed judgment. And I can still feel my entire body flood with shame whenever I think about it. The first time you spoke, you smiled, and the first time you smiled, it spoke to me in ways I couldn’t comprehend back then._

_I still remember that day, as vivid as a movie, playing on the insides of my eyelids whenever I close them. You gave me my first glass of wine. You stopped me from having a second. You were the first person ever to call me sir._

_I don’t think I realized it at the time, but you were my first in so many ways. Not only for trivial things, either. Not only for booze and friendship and freedom but so, so much more. I couldn’t count them all if I tried._

_Is it selfish, wanting more? Is it wrong of me to wish we’d had more time? To wish I didn’t have to settle for firsts but have seconds, and thirds, and forevers, too?_

  


_Do you?_

* * *

_Rome, Italy_  
_Ten years ago_

  


His second day in Rome didn’t start out very eventful. He had breakfast, went back to his room to shower, picked up a map in the lobby, and headed out. Unsure of what to do, he just began walking. Perhaps not the brightest idea, but it got him somewhere, at the very least. 

In hindsight, he should probably have done a bit more research. Not only in Rome, but all the places he wanted to visit throughout Europe. And he wanted to see as much as he could, wanted stories to share when he got back, wanted experiences that people he knew could only ever dream of. It’s the biggest cliché of them all, but he wanted to find himself. He wanted to figure out who he was beyond the Church, beyond his faith and his past, who he could be, who he _wanted_ to be. There had to be more than this empty shell, surely. 

There had to be. 

  


After some time, he found himself on the outskirts of a park. It didn’t seem to be a tourist attraction, so he assumed there wouldn’t be an entry fee, and decided to head in. When in Rome, and whatnot? That seemed to be more and more of a mantra already. 

The park was quiet. Tranquil, even, despite the many people walking to and fro, enjoying the sun as well as the sights. It was quite beautiful; the variety of trees, bushes, and flowers lining the narrow pathways; the odd statue or fountain, usually surrounded by a handful of people; the faint sound of music – or rather singing – that reached his ears once he’d walked for a while. Without really meaning to, he followed the melody, soon able to make out the words. 

_“I’d rather be sailing, yes I would, on an open sea. I’d stand at the railing, if I could, feeling wild and free.”_

Rounding a corner and veering off the path, he spotted two legs on the grass behind a rose bush, and when stepping closer, he noticed they belonged to a man. A blonde-haired man, lying on his back with his arms folded under his head, his eyes hidden behind a pair of aviators. He looked familiar. Very familiar, in fact, and if Kevin could only get a little closer, he might be able to remember from where. 

_“The water’s incredibly blue…”_ The man turned his head, assumably spotting Kevin in his peripheral, and Kevin expected to be told off, was practically getting ready to bolt any second because he just kind of approached a stranger in a park and that felt like reason enough to sue for harassment. But no accusation came. Instead, the man sat back up, lowering his glasses to the tip of his nose, and met Kevin’s eyes. “Kevin Price?” 

Kevin froze to the ground, feeling the heat in his cheeks spreading to his entire face. Those eyes. And that hair. Oh, dear lord, had Kevin just stalked a guy he met yesterday? 

“You know my name?” he managed after a moment. 

The man winced. “Your license,” he said, giving a somewhat apologetic look before pushing his sunglasses back on. “Sorry, that’s creepy.” 

Kevin didn’t know how to answer, opening his mouth dumbly without any words being spoken as the man continued to watch him. Curse him for wearing sunglasses, he’d been much easier to read last night. 

“But then, I guess you could argue sneaking up on someone in a park is kinda weird, too, huh?” 

“I didn’t mean to,” said Kevin with haste, and the man waved a lazy hand about. 

“I’m kidding,” he said, leaning back on his elbows. “Please feel free to sit. The grass isn’t mine.” 

“Oh,” said Kevin, still struggling to read the situation and whether that was an invite or if he were simply being polite. “I don’t wanna impose.” 

The man was still watching him through tinted lenses that Kevin wanted desperately to see through, and he tapped a finger restlessly against the ground before averting his gaze with a slight shrug. “Well, the decision’s yours.” 

“I guess I could, um – for a while, you know.” And suddenly, he was sitting cross-legged about three feet away from someone he’d barely met. What the hell does he say now? “You were singing.” 

Not that, surely. 

“Was I?” hummed the man, smiling when Kevin turned to look at him. “Habit.” 

Kevin nodded. Twice. “You’re good.” 

There was a twitch in his lips, just like there had been yesterday, and Kevin’s eyes stuck to his mouth like glue before the man looked away again. “Grazie.” 

“Prego,” answered Kevin almost instantly, making the man turn back, parting his lips slowly while a corner arched upward. 

“You learn fast,” he noted, shifting his weight onto one elbow as he rolled over on his side. “So, what’s – if you don’t mind me asking, what’s your deal?” 

“What?” Kevin stared. 

“It’s not that I don’t see a lot of Americans around here, it’s just that we don’t get too many nineteen-year-old Utahns.” The man cocked an eyebrow. “Alone.” 

“Oh,” said Kevin with a nod. “I’m traveling.” 

The man watched him for a moment before giving a quiet laugh. “That is an answer, I suppose,” he said, taking off his sunglasses with a smile and hooking them over the collar of his t-shirt. “Kinda left me with more questions than before, though.” 

Without thinking, Kevin said, “Ask away,” and it wasn’t until he was met by very curious eyes and a bemused expression that he realized he was possibly being too forward. 

Nevertheless, came a question. “Why?” 

“Why am I traveling?” Kevin asked and the man nodded. “Well, at risk of sounding like a cheap plot device, I’m, uh. I’m finding myself, I guess.” 

The man’s face twisted into a badly concealed amused grin, and Kevin’s brain was quick to supply a rush of heat across his cheeks in response. “Yeah, alright,” he said, the corners of his mouth pulled down briefly as he raised his eyebrows and gave a few thoughtful nods. “That’s fair.” 

“What about you?” asked Kevin, suddenly urged to shift the focus away from himself. “What’s your deal?” 

He thought for a while, and Kevin watched the crease in his forehead grow more pronounced as the seconds passed. “I don’t know,” he said eventually. “Kinda the same, I guess. Minus the traveling.” 

“You’re finding yourself?” 

The man winced slightly. “Well, I wouldn’t call it that,” he laughed. “But yeah, I’m… Something like that.” 

Kevin nodded, turning away when those blue eyes became just a bit too scrutinizing, and leaned back on his hands in what could only be described as a desperate attempt at seeming cool. Kevin wasn’t very cool. He wasn’t suave and he wasn’t graceful, he often struggled to communicate with parts of his body, resulting in very traumatizing moments like that time he went to pass the ball to his teammate during a soccer game and ended up kicking his own leg, or that time a girl leaned in to kiss him during a dance and Kevin puckered his lips so hard he whistled. 

“So, uh,” he said, not fully aware of why he was so eager to keep the conversation going. “You’re American, right?” 

The man smiled. “Is my Italian that bad?” 

Kevin didn’t mean to shake his head. Or, maybe he meant to do it once, softly, not like a kid denying he ate the last donut. “No,” he quickly assured. “No, you’re great – or, well, you know. I just, I guess it takes one to know one?” 

Kevin wasn’t very eloquent, either. 

“So where are you from?” he asked when he got no response. 

“New York.” 

“Wow,” was all Kevin managed. “Lucky.” 

The man laughed softly. “It’s fine,” he said. “Kinda loses its charm once you’ve lived there your entire life, though.” 

“Well, I’m willing to bet it’s still miles better than Salt Lake.” 

“About that,” the man said, searching Kevin’s face for a moment as he narrowed his eyes slightly. “You’re Mormon, right?” 

“I- Yeah, or I was,” Kevin sputtered. “How’d you-“ 

“Me too.” 

Kevin had to shut his mouth by force as it kept hanging agape at the man’s words. If that wasn’t his luck, going abroad to get away from the Church only to run into probably the one other Mormon in all of Italy. He wanted to laugh. Or perhaps to get up and leave, find another far too intriguing individual that made him want to know more and not at the same time. He wanted to ask if he still practiced and if so, _why_. 

“Oh,” he said instead. “That’s… coincidental.” 

The man watched him; the left side of his mouth curled into a wry smile. He had a very enthralling smile, the kind you’d absentmindedly find yourself gravitating towards, staring at, thinking about when it’s gone. Kevin could already feel himself beginning to memorize it, along with the freckles scattered across his skin. And don’t even get him started on his eyes. They were the hypnotizing shade of crystal-clear water, of a calm sky after the first rains of Spring, an oasis after days and days of walking the desert. 

Kevin was forced out of his thoughts by a question. 

“Did you ever get that second glass of wine?” 

“No,” he said. Between last night and right now, he hadn’t exactly gotten the chance. 

“Do you want to?” 

Despite his lacking ability to read social cues, that was most definitely an invite. Surely. And before he could consider all the scenarios in which such an invite results in him being murdered in an alleyway and dumped in the Tiber, he found himself saying yes and not long after, they were sat in a corner booth of some hotel bar not far from the one Kevin was staying at. 

“Moscato,” said the man, returning with two glasses of wine and handing the pink over to Kevin. “It’s disgustingly sweet, so it shouldn’t be too hard on you.” 

“Thanks,” said Kevin, taking a sip and tasting the hint of peach fizzing against his tongue. It’s nice. “What do I owe you?” 

“Oh, no.” The man waved Kevin’s wallet away. “I know the bartender; these were on the house.” 

Kevin took another sip, glancing over to the bar, and accidentally making eye contact with the very guy they were discussing. Or so he assumed, anyway. “How do you know him?” 

“We used to… hang out. Now he eats for free at Otello and I drink for free here. Don’t tell our bosses, though.” 

Kevin didn’t think any more of it, mostly because he had become increasingly more aware of how quickly the wine had reached his stomach. He could feel it warm him up from the inside, loosening his inhibitions one by one, even though he tried to take it slow, tried not to down the entire glass in one gulp. He was offered another but denied a third. _Work your way up_ , he was reminded, but it didn’t matter much at all. 

Hours and hours later, they were sat by the river. Dangling their legs over the edge of the stonewall in the perfect state of slight intoxication but not so much that they’d be at risk of falling in. The sun had gone down but the sky was still illuminated by the residual sunlight, slowly fading as the stars became more evident. 

“So, tell me,” the man, who Kevin realized he still didn’t know the name of – had he not asked his name? – asked after watching the calm waves several feet below them for a while. “What does Kevin Price of Salt Lake City, Utah, born on August twenty-first, nineteen ninety-two, do for fun?” 

Kevin stared for a moment before a surprised laugh made its way past his lips. “You got all that from looking at my license for, what, five seconds?” 

“Impressive, huh?” 

“What, do you have a photographic memory or something?” 

“No,” the man said, turning to watch the other side of the river. “Some things are just worth memorizing.” And just when Kevin was about to ask his name, he added, “You know, I think you’re the only person I’ve ever met who doesn’t look like a serial killer on their ID.” 

Kevin laughed. “Thanks. I think,” he said, struggling to deduce whether it had been a compliment or not. “I’m sure yours isn’t that bad, by the way.” 

Almost instantaneously, there was a small, plastic card held up in front of his face, and he took it from the man’s hands to give it a closer inspection. He didn’t look _bad_ , he just looked very black and white, very serious, very dead inside or perhaps that was just the lighting and suddenly he understood completely what he’d meant. Jesus Christ, if this same picture had shown up on a news story about an escaped convict who murdered three people in a manic rage, Kevin wouldn’t have thought twice about it. 

Shaking his head, he tried to get the very unwelcome idea of serial killers and murders out of his head and focused on something nicer he could latch onto. 

“Connor McKinley,” turned out to be just the thing. 

The man – Connor – laughed quietly. “That’s what they call me.” 

Kevin didn’t know how to respond, and instead, kept staring at his license a bit longer, noting that it, indeed, said New York and that he was only one year his senior. Before he could say anything at all, Connor seemed to wince. 

“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m being so weird,” he said, watching the water below his feet. “I’m not usually this weird. I think it’s you – you’re…” he paused, lifting his eyes and meeting Kevin’s slightly too obvious, still kind of tipsy, stare, and by gosh, were his eyes blue, “…doing something to me.” 

Barely able to get his mouth to move, Kevin voiced a curious, “Yeah?” through parted lips. 

Is this how alcohol makes you feel? As though kissing a man might not be as terrible a sin as he’s been told since birth; as though his lips were magnets and Connor made entirely out of metal; as though everything else in the world falls away to savor one single tunnel-visioned moment? 

Whether it does, he never found out because Connor looked away with a sigh that Kevin wasn’t sure how to read. 

“It’s getting late,” he said, still watching the city lights across the water. 

Kevin nodded. Once and forcefully. “Oh.” 

And then Connor turned back, looking almost guilty. “No, look, it’s just. I have work tomorrow,” he explained, a soft smile easily convincing Kevin that he was telling the truth. “I mean, I get off at four but I’m sure you have plans.” 

“I don’t,” Kevin was maybe too quick to assure. “I’m here alone, I literally have no plans whatsoever.” 

Connor stared, a huff of air exiting his lungs in what almost sounded like a laugh. “You came here to find yourself, surely you didn’t think you’d do that just by walking the streets.” 

Kevin shrugged. “Why not?” 

Connor considered him for a moment before daring a small smile. “I could show you around, I guess,” he said, and then something sparked in Kevin’s chest. Something small, like breaking a glow stick. Kevin could feel his insides beginning to burn. “If you want.” 

“That’d be nice.” 

“Alright,” Connor agreed before awkwardly shifting in his seat, scratching at the back of his neck. “So, should I get your number? In case I get off earlier, I mean.” 

“Oh,” Kevin said, once again feeling his face flush, for only the millionth time today. “Yeah, no, that makes sense.”

* * *

_Logan, Utah_  
_Seven years ago_

  


_I’ve never been an open book. I usually keep people at arm’s length, letting them see the shell of a man no more. But things were different with you, and sure, I was younger but not by much, and sure, the situation allowed for a different approach, a more honest approach, but it can’t be the only reason. I opened up to you, you got me to open up. How did you do that? How did you pick me apart so easily, and then put the pieces back in their places, one by one, as though my entire being was an IKEA bookcase and you were only following instructions? How did you manage, what’s the secret? Why did I trust you?_

_And why is it, that without you, I can’t seem to trust anyone, not even myself?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kevin's main reaction to anything in this fic is just gonna be 'Oh', isn't it? Yes. Yes, it is. 
> 
> Does Connor need to be a William Finn fan in everything I write? Yes. Yes, he does.
> 
> I know this is short and kinda boring, I'm trying something new. And while trying not to get behind in my studies from the very start this semester (ha ha, already have), I thought this could be a nice, if not cathartic, thing to write on the side. 
> 
> Please let me know if you enjoyed it! Or just leave a kudos, or don't, really, it's up to you but know that I appreciate any feedback you'd like to throw my way. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and stay safe! xx
> 
> (Oh, also, this fic is gonna be short. I don't know how short yet but it's not gonna be a 20 chap, 100k kinda thing, just like, a heads-up, I guess?)


	2. on darker days we'd go to play, dance along the river tiber

_Rome, Italy_   
_Ten years ago_

Connor was stood outside Otello when Kevin approached, leaning against the side of the building with a cigarette between two fingers. He put it to his lips, taking a deep breath right as he turned his head, meeting Kevin’s eyes, and then he exhaled, quickly, as he dropped the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his foot. 

A small huff of smoke escaped his lips as he greeted Kevin, and he coughed once to conceal it. 

“Hey,” Kevin said, choosing not to mention the smoking. “Sorry I’m late.” 

Connor waved a dismissive hand between them before nodding his head in the other direction, and the two started walking. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Would you mind if we stop by my place first?” 

Kevin awkwardly hesitated. “No, um. I mean, sure.” 

“I just need to grab a quick shower and change into something a little less airtight,” Connor explained, gesturing to his work getup, the smile on his face almost turning apologetic. “It’ll be ten minutes, tops.” 

The walk wasn’t long, and Kevin wondered if Connor had kept that in mind when looking for work. It seemed he lived here in Trastevere, across the river from the inner city of Rome. Kevin had read somewhere that it was the chic neighborhood and immediately likened it to Brooklyn in his own head. If this were the case, however, he had absolutely no clue. 

Not five minutes later, Connor veered off the sidewalk and to a door leading to what Kevin assumed was an apartment building, but looked from the outside like it could just as easily be a museum. Everything in Rome was intriguing that way, it seemed history just coexisted with the locals. 

“It’s not much, but make yourself at home,” said Connor before disappearing through the bathroom door, and Kevin did just that. 

He took a seat on the edge of Connor’s bed, since there was nowhere else to sit but the floor. The place was tiny, with as much emphasis on the last word as is possible. Stretching a mere hundred or so square feet, it’s no surprise he couldn’t fit more than a slightly-wider-than-twin-sized-bed, a dresser, and a nightstand beside the kitchenette. He didn’t even have a table, for crying out loud. Where on earth did he eat his dinner? 

Ignoring the limited space, he looked up instead, noting that the walls were almost lined with bookshelves and images. If Kevin could count all the books – and he did – there’d be more than he’s probably read in his entire life. Kevin Price wasn’t an avid reader, not because he didn’t enjoy being completely engrossed in a story, but because he struggled to stay interested. Before, there had always been his faith getting in his way, and he could proudly say that he’s read the Book of Mormon more times than he could possibly count. Now, however, his focus only remained as far as he could throw it, which embarrassingly, was not very far at all. 

Rising to his feet, he reached up and grabbed a book that caught his attention. Though, he couldn’t help but notice that most of the books were very similar, and in a way, almost seemed color coded. But nevertheless, he set his mind on this one, in particular. It was a classic, he was fairly certain. A hardback, a very plain hardback. Kevin wondered if it had come with a dust jacket, but soon forgot his train of thought when he noticed the front cover had _Brave New World_ written across it in thin, silver, cursive letters. It looked almost like calligraphy, and below it was a quote scribbled, it seemed hurriedly. 

_But I don’t want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin._

He was jerked back to reality once the bathroom door opened again, and Connor came out dressed in nothing but a towel. 

“Oh,” said Kevin awkwardly. Oh boy. 

“It’s a good one,” said Connor, nodding toward the book in his hand as he made his way – with two steps – across the room to the dresser, digging through the drawers. “But I’m afraid if you read it, you’ll turn into a pretentious prick.” 

Kevin breathed out a laugh. “Really?” 

Connor looked back with a smile. “Those are the rules.” 

Kevin was trying very hard not to stare. In fact, he was trying incredibly hard not to so much as glance, but then Connor turned around again and he could see a few droplets fall from his hair onto his chest and how they trickled along his torso and- 

He glued his eyes to the book, reread the quote ten times, fifteen, twenty, before it seemed Connor had clothes on again. First then, did he dare a peek. 

Connor smiled. “How do I look?” 

“Oh,” said Kevin, trying not to blush. “Good.” 

“Right. Convincing,” said Connor, letting out a sharp breath through his nose that nearly made Kevin wince. And then he smiled again. “But I’ll take your word for it.” 

Kevin didn’t have time to inspect his apartment further, as he was soon dragged out on the street again, and Connor set off in the opposite direction they had come from. They were walking for quite a while but Connor kept telling him about his life in New York and the many times he’d snuck out to catch a matinee instead of studying scripture, that Kevin barely noticed when they passed the Tiber. It wasn’t until nearly half an hour later that Connor seemed to run out of stories, or perhaps he tired of telling them, and Kevin remembered the question he’d been meaning to ask ever since they left Connor’s apartment. 

“So, where are we going?” he asked. “The Roman Forum? The Colosseum? The Pantheon?” He may or may not have done some reading in his hotel room last night. 

“If you wanted to go somewhere touristy, you would have spent eighty bucks on one of them,” said Connor, gesturing in the direction of what looked to be tour guides standing by the side of the road. “And then two hours into a line they told you would be ten minutes, because their fast track, priority entrance is bullshit, you’d realized you were ripped off.” 

Kevin snorted. “Sounds like you’re talking from experience.” 

“Don’t you dare,” Connor warned with an elbow to Kevin’s arm, but only lifted his eyebrows slightly with a half-smile. 

Then suddenly, Connor stopped, and they were stood on a square – or piazza – opposite a rather short, white-orange building topped with a cross and four statues. It didn’t look like much, and Kevin probably wouldn’t have thought any of it had he not been pulled to a halt by Connor’s hand on his wrist. He could tell it was a church, though, if only by the aforementioned cross centered at the very top. 

“This is what you wanted to show me?” 

Connor only smiled, nodding his head toward the entrance and Kevin followed unquestionably. Inside the doors was a courtyard, the floor in red bricks decorated with a diagonal white cross, stretching from corner to corner. The walls were lined with fragments of monuments and columns, pieces of sculptures that looked to be ancient, as far as Kevin could tell. Further in was another door that stood tall and brown, decorated with golden knobs. The door stood open, too, and Connor made his way inside without second thought with Kevin at his heel, feeling slightly misplaced in the unparalleled beauty that unraveled in front of his eyes. You may think him hyperbolic, but there was something about the high, high ceiling and the golden arches that made his mouth fall just slightly agape as he peered around. 

“It’s pretty, huh?” said Connor when noticing the look on Kevin’s face. “Catholics really had us beat in that department.” 

Kevin nearly laughed but refrained, thinking it was probably rude to do so in a place of worship. Instead, he raised his eyebrows and gave a quiet, amused huff of air. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been to some beautiful temples and churches back home but,” he paused, looking around with wide, childlike eyes and smiled. “This is…” he trailed off, his forehead creasing as he kept his mouth open as if to voice another word, but it seemed instead, he was at a loss for them. 

Kevin knew exactly what he meant, though. “It really is.” 

Lining the marble floor on each side of the aisle were rows of wooden pews, and in every which way were paintings, murals, mosaics, all beautifully intricate, leaving nearly no surface undecorated. Kevin had never been inside a church before – well, that’s not entirely true, he’d been in Mormon churches, sure, but his former religion was founded in the early to mid-19th century, meaning the churches he’s attended were all constructed less than two hundred years ago. Connor said something in passing about the ceiling being painted in the late 1600s, and that it is believed that the high altar was designed by Michelangelo. Mormon churches were all so plain, so sterile, so _uninspired_ , with clean, white walls that made it feel more like a conference room, or an overpriced auditorium. But this, this was astounding, and heavenly, and historic. It was _personal_ , despite Kevin having no ties to it whatsoever, not even his faith in God, anymore. 

After a few minutes – or so he thought – Connor lightly grabbed his arm, pulling him along to one side as Kevin noticed the nave started to fill with people. Connor took a seat on the pew at the far back and gestured for Kevin to do the same. 

Which, naturally, he did. 

“Are we allowed to be here?” he asked, assuming since it was Sunday and people seemed to be taking their seats, that some sort of service was about to start. 

“No,” whispered Connor, far too casually for Kevin’s liking, as he flashed a smile. “But it’s worth it. You gotta live a little, Kevin. Break the rules.” 

“That’s not a very Mormon thing to say.” 

Connor breathed out a laugh. “Well, I thought you had already gathered I’m not a very Mormon person,” he said, turning his face forward and straightening in his seat. “Just blend in.” 

Kevin gaped. “I’ve literally never done that.” Kevin Price was not discreet. At all. “I don’t know how.” 

Connor shot him a glance but lingered for a moment as a smile grew on his lips. “You can start by shutting your mouth,” he laughed softly, helping Kevin by placing a finger under his chin and pressing upward. Kevin’s breath hitched. “And stop staring. Just… be normal. Pretend it’s sacrament.” 

Kevin thought for a moment. “Is this a bad time to tell you that I’m not practicing anymore?” 

Connor narrowed his eyes, but it seemed to be in amusement rather than doubt, and he soon turned away with a shrug. “Then at least you don’t have to feel like you’re cheating on Heavenly Father with,” he leaned closer, lowering his voice, “ _the Catholic God_.” Kevin snorted. “Lord knows they’re all up there, playing some twisted game of sims with all of us.” 

“But they’re the same person, though,” said Kevin. “Or, not person, but, you know.” 

“If they were the same, we’d have one religion.” 

Kevin frowned. “That’s not… Like fifty percent of religion is up to interpretation, I mean, by that logic everyone would have to share a mind, not to mention the fact that cults are techni-“ 

“Shh.” Connor hushed him with a dismissive hand without looking, as he was facing the altar. “It’s about to start, so just… sit pretty. No sound, no sudden movements, just listen. It’s nice.” 

“You’re making it sound like we’re at risk of becoming prey.” 

“Well, you’ve heard what Catholics are capable of,” whispered Connor, very, very quietly. “I’m just saying, the Spanish Inquisition _did_ happen.” 

Kevin had to stifle a laugh – and thankfully, he succeeded – as he shoved his elbow into Connor’s side, but he was only shushed once more in return. 

The service then began, and Kevin was surprised when the priest, or the bishop, or whatever they call it, started speaking English. And he was even more surprised when he said, “Peace be with you,” and the entire congregation responded, “And also with you.” 

The _entire_ congregation. Including a certain Mormon, namely, Connor McKinley. 

A little less than an hour later, the service seemed to be coming to an end, and Kevin felt both relieved that he wouldn’t have to worry about being caught and sort of enchanted, in a way, because the psalms and blessings had all been very pretty – as are most, Kevin had come to realize – but he could not get past the fact that faith, in any shape, meant close to nothing to him anymore. He wanted to believe, wished he could, but there was too much in the way. There were people dying, starving, fleeing wars only to be denied refuge in better-off countries. There were natural disasters killing thousands every year, terrorism, inequality, and lies. So many goddamn lies. 

Connor snapped him out of his thoughts with a nudge in his side, and Kevin followed when he made for the door. It was still bright outside; the clock had just passed six-thirty and Kevin hoped the night wasn’t ending so soon. 

“You know, I would ask where we’re going next,” he said, noting how Connor didn’t seem too perplexed by the thought. “But considering you just brought me to Mass in a Catholic church, I’m not sure I want to know.” 

Connor’s lips curled into a smile. “What, I thought we’d see a Synagogue next, and after that a Mosque.” 

“What, no Temple?” 

“There isn’t one,” said Connor with a shrug. “ _But_ , they announced last year that they’re building one, so. I guess there’s still hope, huh?” 

Kevin shot him the most bored look he could muster. “Can we please go somewhere non-religious? Or did my mom secretly set you up to lure me back to the Church?” 

Connor snorted. “I wouldn’t be doing a very good job if I brought you here, though, would I?” he said as they began walking again. “I just feel like there’s so much more personality here, you know? Back home the services feel more like assembly, if anything. There’s no oomph, you know?” 

Kevin laughed. “I wouldn’t think services _needed_ oomph, but sure. I guess they could be a bit more creative, what with three books to draw from? Shouldn’t be that hard.” 

“Exactly,” Connor agreed. “Scripture can be more than what it says on the tin, all it needs is some imagination.” 

“Unless all of it already is,” said Kevin, to which Connor shot him a frown. “Imagined, I mean. As though a man actually walked on water.” 

“You’re cynical,” Connor noted with a nod. “And you no longer practice. So, what does that make you? An atheist?” 

Kevin shrugged. He hadn’t exactly considered himself to be anything lately, that’s the whole reason he’s here. To find himself, he thought, and not without ignoring the urge to gag. 

“I don’t know.” 

Connor nodded a few times, lips pressed together in thought as he crossed a street without looking. “So, agnostic.” 

“I really don’t think labels are that necessary,” said Kevin with hesitation. He used to love labels. God, he used to be so _good_ at labels. Receiving the best and dishing out the worse like the judgmental, privileged kid he’d been. Still is, technically. As much as it pained him, he couldn’t simply ignore the fact that this entire trip had been more or less paid for by his parents. “I’ve spent so much time meticulously crafting the perfect image, the perfect Kevin. I kinda just wanna be. You know?” 

Connor wasn’t looking at him, so his attempted smile was utterly pointless. And it wasn’t exactly comforting that Connor didn’t respond, either. Maybe he said too much. Maybe they shouldn’t be talking about this kind of stuff. Maybe he ought to just shut up, for once. The world, he learned far too late in life, did in fact not revolve around him. Neither did the sun, or the moon, or any other cosmic bodies, for that matter. In the grand scheme of things, Kevin Price was a speck of dust, at best. Easily caught in the wind and gone in an instant, his time on earth would mean nothing, eventually. 

Dear God, that was depressing. 

“Are you hungry?” asked Connor then, as though he’d heard Kevin spiral into an existential crisis. 

“I could eat.” 

“Cool, so d’you wanna, maybe, grab a bite? I know a place not far from here.” 

Kevin dared a smile – nay, a _smirk_. “As long as it’s not tied to religion, I’m in.” 

Connor laughed. “Hey, if you don’t want the full Connor McKinley experience,” he said, lifting his hands in the air in feigned surrender. “No one’s forcing you.” 

Kevin wanted the full experience, he did – he _really_ did, but he couldn’t just say that, surely? He had to, well, not play hard to get, per se, because a) this wasn’t a movie, b) that never seemed like a good tactic anyway, and c) there really wasn’t anything _to_ get. Hard to get only applied to romantic endeavors or negotiating with a car dealer, not to kind-of-local shows lost, ex-Mormon around town. 

Still, he ended up agreeing, not that that was ever off the table, and they ended up at a small, quiet restaurant, crammed into a narrow alleyway that usually went unnoticed by tourists. Kevin knew this because Connor told him after chatting away with the waiter he seemed to be acquainted with. He liked it. The restaurant, that is, but even more so, he liked the company. A lot. 

Two hours later they were back at the river. Not passing, they just… were. It seemed Connor liked it; liked the calm nature of the water drifting by; liked the occasional whirlpool that appeared where opposing currents met; liked the reflection of the moon once the sun had set, and the way the surface glimmered in the starlight. Or perhaps it was the streetlights. Either way, it was pretty. And either way, Kevin found he liked knowing what Connor liked. Or, rather thinking he knew what Connor liked, anyway. 

“That wasn’t your first service, earlier, right?” he asked when they’d been quiet for a while, and he’d realized he’d been staring, dumbly. 

Connor looked up, his lips curled in a smile, and his cheeks a faint pink. “I may have gone a few times,” he admitted. “It’s one of the only places that give them in English. Kinda reminds me of home, but not enough to make me miss it.” 

There was something then, in his eyes. A twinkle that Kevin could only liken to sadness, and it felt so out of place, so wrong, despite the fact that Kevin had only known him for a day. It didn’t fit, and it made his stomach turn slightly. 

“You know,” he said, in a desperate attempt at lightening the mood. “If my mom finds out I so much as stepped foot in a Catholic church, never mind attended _Mass_ , she’d disown me.” 

It struck him only once he’d said it, that perhaps he hadn’t chosen the very lightest of subjects, but thankfully, Connor laughed. 

“And what would she do if she found out you’ve been hanging out with a stranger you only met two days ago?” 

“She’d probably start planning my funeral.” 

Connor wrinkled his nose with another laugh. “That’s morbid.” 

Kevin shrugged. “Stranger danger, and all that,” he said. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you?” 

“She did,” said Connor, his face illuminated by the strange combination of street and moonlight, meeting in some soft, yellowish hue bouncing off his skin, making him appear paler than Kevin remembered him being. “But she also spewed so much shit that I think the valuable lessons got buried with the rest.” 

“Oh,” said Kevin, and Connor offered a sympathetic smile, as though Kevin had been the one to hint at an apparently not so great childhood. “That sucks.” 

Such poetry, Kevin. 

“It is what it is,” said Connor with a shrug, leaning back on his hands. “I shouldn’t give her too much crap, though. If she’d been a better mom, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.” 

It might have been selective hearing, but the addition of _right now_ felt deliberate. He could just as easily have stopped the sentence after _here_ , but he didn’t. He emphasized this moment, _right now_ , and perhaps he was reading into it. Scratch that, he was _definitely_ reading into it, but he couldn’t help himself. 

Before Kevin could respond, Connor said, “Do you believe in coincidences?” and he honestly didn’t know what to say to that. Did he? If coincidence and fate were on opposite sides of the spectrum, Kevin’s opinion was a coin toss. He didn’t know, that’s the thing. He didn’t know what or how or who or why about anything, anything at all. So, he wasn’t sure if he was surprised when Connor added, “Because I don’t.” 

Instead, he stared. Like an idiot and a half, and when Connor cocked an eyebrow so slightly that Kevin barely noticed, he managed to let out a quiet, “Oh.” 

Connor laughed through his nose, seemingly amused by Kevin’s inability to carry a conversation, but he didn’t poke fun, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he locked eyes with the crescent moon reflected by the now darkening water. “Ever since I was a kid, I’ve always had this feeling that things happen for a reason, you know?” he said to the river, but Kevin offered a soft hum in return either way. “And whether that is an ignorant fallacy or a devastating truth, I can’t help but think life is supposed to be this convoluted, carefully crafted story that is meant to play out a certain way.” 

Kevin turned to see what answers Connor was searching for in the water but found only gleaming moonlight bouncing off the waves. It was beautiful, sure, mesmerizing, even, but it didn’t tell him anything. It didn’t make him any wiser as to what to say, what to do, at all. 

“Is that insane?” asked Connor after a moment, tearing his eyes from the river, and finally meeting Kevin’s. He smiled, but barely, his cheeks once again turning a faint pink that would easily have passed Kevin right by if it weren’t for how close they were sitting. He only realized first now, that there really was no point, no need to be only inches apart, but he wasn’t about to shuffle away now. “That I want life to be more poetic than it is?” 

Kevin remembered himself then and shook his head. “No,” he said, certain he sounded more like a toddler with an attitude than he did an adult with an opinion. “No, I think that’s… I think that makes sense.” 

Connor gave him a curious look. “Really?” 

“Yeah, I mean, we were raised to believe that if we did certain things, in a certain way, we would eventually be rewarded in the afterlife, in the celestial kingdom, or wherever we’re going,” said Kevin, copying Connor’s move of looking out over the water instead of directly into prying eyes. “There’s always been a plan, we’ve always known what we were destined for,” he paused then, daring a glance to his side, “I just don’t think it’s as simple as we were told.” 

Connor considered him, for an uncomfortably long time before he pressed his lips together in a hum and nodded thoughtfully. “So when’d you leave?” 

Kevin frowned. “Hm?” 

“The Church.” 

“Oh, um. A month ago, give or take.” 

Connor’s eyes widened as he huffed out a laugh. “That’s recent,” he said, amazed. “And the first thing that crossed your mind was to go to Italy?” 

“More or less,” said Kevin. 

Connor shook his head slightly, his eyes scrutinizing but in a way Kevin found he didn’t hate. “What kind of _Roman Holiday_ shit is that?” he laughed. “Who are you, Julia Roberts in every romcom ever?” 

“I wasn’t allowed to watch romcoms,” said Kevin with a frown. “Actually, I wasn’t allowed to watch movies at all, really. Were you?” 

Connor opened his mouth with a smile but closed it just as quickly and opted for a shrug instead. “I’m Mormon, aren’t I?” he said, and whether the dramatic tone was real or not, Kevin had absolutely no clue. “I’ve never even _seen_ a – whatchamacallit – a TV?” 

Rolling his eyes, Kevin huffed out a, “Funny,” but he couldn’t hide the smile on his face if he so wanted to. 

“So, why’d you do it?” Connor asked, and when Kevin shot him a confused look, added, “Why’d you leave?” 

Now, that was a good question. One Kevin had pondered over and dwelled on ever since he made the decision, and he was still none the wiser. It was, for lack of a better word, complicated. His relationship with the Church always had been, too, but he’d never questioned it before. He’d never taken the time to pick apart the many pieces that comprised his faith, to consider what they were by themselves. Sure, being a missionary sounded like a great idea when you think of it as a way to help people find their own truth in God, but disregarding the proselytizing, he’d just be a privileged kid telling people they weren’t living their lives right. And sure, scripture reading was a necessary step to receive spiritual guidance, and praying was the best way of speaking directly to the Lord, but if, in theory, said Lord did not exist, he could essentially just be reading the teachings of a madman, and kneel for nothing but an illusion. There were too many what-ifs, too many cracks in the foundation, too many inconsistencies that didn’t add up in his mind. 

Of course, he didn’t say this. “I don’t know,” is what he expressed eventually. “It just didn’t feel right anymore, I guess.” 

But Connor didn’t seem convinced. He watched with blank eyes and a bored expression, lifting his eyebrows slowly, as to really drag out the doubt and shove it so far down Kevin’s throat that he’d gag. 

Well, Kevin didn’t gag, thankfully, but he gave in, nonetheless. “It all just began feeling very… staged, you know?” he said, trying his best to explain his very incoherent thoughts. “It became about pride, and power, and prestige, and all I would think about was looking good, being the best, being something so incredible that Thomas Monson would personally invite me to Temple Square and make me part of the Quorum or the high council, and, well, I realized somewhere along the way that, I didn’t want that. Or, I didn’t know _why_ I wanted it,” he met Connor’s eyes with a shrug, “so, I left.” 

Connor watched him, closely. He was leaning back now, propped up by his elbows, and his legs crossed. Kevin didn’t know why, but he slumped a little in his seat as well, so their heads were more or less leveled, and the yellowish light made Connor’s hair glow a faint orange. The wind was cool but welcomed, as the sun had worn away at his complexion all day, and although there was definitely a chill traveling along his spine, Kevin wasn’t certain if the weather was the main cause. 

“Do you believe in God, Kevin?” asked Connor, with a look of… something, in his eyes. 

Kevin nearly laughed despite himself. “Did you not hear a thing I just said?” 

“I heard you don’t believe in the Church,” Connor noted, not-smiling with every inch of his face, tugging at Kevin’s curiosity and confusion all the same. “I asked about God.” 

Kevin, determined not to let his urge to succumb to temptation shine through, lifted his eyebrows very carefully, and said, “And those don’t feel synonymous to you?” 

Connor didn’t answer, but he kept Kevin’s gaze locked with his, and it was far, far too easy to set his mind adrift, helplessly drowning in the blue of his eyes. 

“You should have asked me a year ago,” said Kevin, quietly and with attempted humor. “My answer would’ve been a lot more nuanced.” 

“I do. Believe, I mean,” said Connor, and then suddenly, there was a pull. A magnetic pull that motioned him closer, luring or alluring or perhaps both; Kevin had never felt this inclined to give himself away so completely. Not that there was anything holding him back anymore. No Church, no rules, no scripture, yet there was that distant warning, ever-present, _sinner sinner sinner_. “Do you believe in fate?” 

There was that question again, coincidence or fate, serendipity or destiny, _is-this-a-lucky-accident_ or _am-I-meant-to-be-here_. And he wasn’t sure, wasn’t sure of a single goddamned thing except that Connor was eyeing his lips and that something was burning hot in his chest. 

How did this happen? How did he find himself in the position of exploring a desire he’s suppressed for so long, on a literal whim in a foreign country? Was Italy magic? Was Connor? Was this even real at all, or was he diving headfirst into a Hell Dream of he’d wake up from as soon as he gave in? 

Was he ever going to get another chance, if he blew this one? 

With an increasingly crumbling confidence, he leaned in slightly, resting his weight on the elbow nearest Connor, and let out a, “Maybe,” that was really more air than it was voice, but Connor’s eyes shot up to look at him, as though he’d forgotten himself, and Kevin wanted, desperately, to lean closer, further, _against_ , but found himself unable to move at all, frozen solid and barely breathing. 

Connor watched him closely for a moment, still supporting himself on his elbows with his head turned Kevin’s way, and Kevin would meet his eyes in brief glances before they darted back to his mouth, the knowing what he wanted but not knowing what to do muddled together in loud, obnoxious thoughts that he was just about able to tune out for long enough to give a small nod, that was really just an attempt to angle his head, but it seemed to be incentive enough to make Connor lift himself up from the ground and close the distance between them. 

And then Kevin stopped breathing. This was it. _Surely_ , this was it, what his life had been leading up to, that big, momentous revelation that revealed a world of wonder and understanding he’d never felt before. Surely, he’d see the light and hear music and feel sparks all through his bloodstream, pumping him full of adrenaline and love and _life_. 

Connor’s lips were soft, if not a bit chapped from the heat, and they moved carefully, slowly against his own. Kevin took note of every motion, every brush of Connor’s hand against his skin, never landing in one place for too long, but traveling, leaving light touches on his arm, his cheek, his waist. He welcomed Connor’s tongue when it grazed his teeth, allowed him access to his mouth and felt every lick, every slide, and mirrored the movements as best he could, learning. 

Connor was a good teacher. 

But then he pulled away, and Kevin didn’t see God or hear symphonies, but he felt the electricity, the slow crackling of a fire newly lit, as Connor whispered, in a cliched moment that was anything but that, “Do you believe now?” and Kevin couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, echoed by Connor’s own, and he didn’t know – _still_ didn’t have the slightest of clues whether this was fate or coincidence or neither. 

He didn’t care, and so he pushed back, gently, and kissed harder as Connor’s hands grew familiar against his skin. When in Rome, and- _fuck it_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter really wasn't _that_ heavy on the italics before I started editing it, so, sorry about that.
> 
> Either way, I hope you liked it, and if you did, please let me know! There's no greater cure to writer's block and lack of motivation than validation, it really does go such a long way, believe me. I appreciate every comment, every kudos, every hit, really. It's just nice knowing someone but me enjoys this story, you know? 
> 
> And if you're interested, the church they visited is called _San Silvestro in Capite_ and it really is astonishing, at least from the google maps images I based it on, lmao. I always try to incorporate real places in my writing, instead of making up my own because there is nothing I hate quite as much as plotholes or plot inconsistencies, and it's easier to stay on track if I have an already existing foundation to base it on, if that makes sense? 
> 
> I don't know why that last part was necessary. But thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Stay safe and fuck it


	3. no other place could fill the space you left inside my heart

_Seattle, Washington_  
_Five years ago_

_When you kissed me, I knew. What had only been fragments of questions before suddenly had answers. A simple notion suddenly solidified, crashing in place the way our lips did. The way our hands fit together, as though we were remolding to fit each other, my body sculpted to fit around yours. Nothing had ever felt so right. Nothing still hasn’t. Five years in the making and my body hasn’t changed one bit._

_My arms feel empty without you in them; my lips are numb. You sparked a flame inside me that no one else can kindle, however desperately I want them to. It’s you. It’s only ever been you, Connor._

_Fuck, I miss you._

* * *

_Rome, Italy_  
_Ten years ago_

He woke up by sunlight seeping through the blinds, at first harsh on his eyelids but once he opened them, the rays became softer, dancing around the room like fireflies or light flares reflected by a CD. Kevin wasn’t in his hotel room. He was still wearing most of his clothes, but this wasn’t the bed he’d slept in the few days he’d been here; this was the bed he’d briefly sat on while Connor showered. And now Connor was right beside him, an arm wrapped around Kevin’s midriff as he snored quietly. 

For some reason, it didn’t freak him out entirely. Sure, he was a little panicked – nervous, mostly – but there was something so innately soothing in the way Connor’s breaths bounced off his neck, his pulse echoing against Kevin’s ribs. He had never shared a bed with anyone before, girl or boy, and he thought it would feel a lot less natural than it did now. What, since both of them barely fit in Connor’s bed at all. It was a good thing there was a wall on Connor’s end, or they’d both be at risk of falling off. 

Kevin took a moment to look around again, trying to spot any differences from yesterday, things he might have missed or overlooked. A photo across the room showed Connor and someone else – another boy, or perhaps young man, Kevin thought – both dressed in white, pressed shirts, and he wasn’t close enough to tell, but he was almost certain it had been Connor’s missionary getup. Had Connor gone on his mission? He hadn’t really said whether he was still with the Church or not yet, although Kevin assumed he was, if only because he seemed somewhat devout still. Well, if you disregarded his rendezvous with Catholicism, anyway. 

The books intrigued him the most, though, and on closer inspection, Kevin noticed a pattern in the way they were organized. Most of the spines were plain with the same style of writing that he’d seen on the cover of _Brave New World_. Thin, silver letters on either plain black or white, while other books looked more or less normal, if Kevin were the sole judge. His eyes strained as he squinted in the hopes of improving his vision just enough to read every title, and he gave up once he felt Connor stirring beside him. 

Suddenly he froze. He hadn’t really considered what would happen when Connor woke up, whether he expected Kevin to leave, or worse, what if he expected Kevin to already be gone? If only he’d done this before. If only he’d had a friend who’d done this before. If only he’d seen a movie or heard some story where someone spent the night, completely PG, with a stranger they barely knew halfway across the globe. Maybe Kevin should have watched more romcoms. 

“Morning,” said Connor then, and Kevin was forced to acknowledge his consciousness. 

“Buongiorno,” he said almost by reflex, and Connor gave a surprised laugh. 

“You really do learn fast, huh?” 

Kevin blushed as Connor propped himself up on one elbow, inching closer with those blue eyes fixed to Kevin’s, and his breath got caught in his throat when Connor leaned in to kiss him. 

“I haven’t brushed my teeth yet,” whispered Kevin, and Connor laughed against his lips. 

“I don’t care,” he said, and then he was sat on Kevin’s lap and his hands were roaming from his face to his chest to his hands, and all the while, their lips stayed connected. 

Kevin could get used to this. 

A few minutes later – Kevin assumed; he had lost his ability to tell the time somewhere in Connor’s mouth – Connor pulled back, still with his legs on either side of Kevin’s hips before he quickly removed himself to stand up. 

“Are you hungry?” he asked, reaching for the drawer beside his bed. 

“A little,” said Kevin, perhaps watching a bit too eagerly as Connor changed. 

“I’ll go get breakfast,” he said, pulling his legs through a pair of denim shorts. “There’s a bakery just down the street. It’s amazing, you’ll love it.” 

Kevin wasn’t sure what to say, so he nodded quite dumbly. But Connor didn’t seem to notice as he raked a hand through his hair a couple of times before popping a piece of gum in his mouth. He was radiating something Kevin couldn’t quite put his finger on, but he thought resembled excitement. 

“Don’t go anywhere,” said Connor with a smile before he was through the door. 

A mere five seconds later he came back with a slightly more worried look on his face. “Okay, so I feel like I should say you’re obviously free to leave anytime you want, I didn’t mean that to sound so threatening, but um. I’ll be back in ten, okay, bye.” And then he left again. 

This meant he wanted Kevin to stay, right? Or else he wouldn’t go out to get them breakfast. Right? 

He sat up on the bed, glancing around the room again before reaching for the pack of gum Connor had left on the nightstand. If he couldn’t brush his teeth, he could at least make sure his breath wasn’t completely horrible when Connor came back. He would come back, right? 

Shaking his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts, he made for the bathroom which felt even smaller than it had last night. His hair looked a mess, and no matter how persistently Kevin pulled it back, there was always one strand that would fall in his face, and it really was quite annoying. It didn’t look _good_. It looked tousled and unkempt and not at all as in place and effortlessly perfect as Connor’s had. Kevin should’ve cut his hair before leaving the country, his mother had even told him to. _It’s gotten so long, Kevin. It doesn’t look proper, Kevin. What would Bishop Donahue say, Kevin?_

With a sigh and a prolonged blink of an eye, he gave up. His hair simply wouldn’t stay in place without gel and it’s not like he could… Could he? 

Curiosity got the best of him as he opened the cabinet behind the mirror. It was fairly cramped with products Kevin could only guess the purpose of, and as he scanned the shelves, he noted a few things. 1. Connor owned three toothbrushes, two of which looked overused while the third one seemed to be in mint condition. 2. Condoms. 3. He was out of Q-tips but had the box still stowed away on the top shelf. 4. _Condoms?_ (And there went a thrill of excited horror down his spine.) 5. Hair gel. Score. 

He squeezed out a tiny amount, not wanting to borrow – or steal, rather – more than he could get away with undetected. With a swift movement, he raked his hand through his hair and tried to get that stubborn strand to stay back with the rest, but something felt, well, different. The gel was slicker than usual. Stickier. It didn’t even do its job very well at all, and Kevin grabbed the tube again to check it wasn’t some weird, Italian kind he’d never heard of. 

It wasn’t, he realized. In fact, it wasn’t hair gel at all. 

_Natural Gel Intimo_ , the label read. And on closer inspection, _Lubrificante_. He didn’t need to know Italian to take a stab at what that meant. 

_Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck._

Without a second thought, Kevin stuck his head into the barely-bigger-than-his-head sink to wash it out. This is why you read the label before putting it on your body, Kevin. Actually. This is why you don’t snoop through people’s belongings, _Kevin_. 

Right as he turned the tap off, he could hear the front door open, and he squeezed the excess water out of his hair before grabbing the first towel he could find and frantically rubbing it at his head. As if he could get it dry in ten seconds. 

“Kevin?” 

“Uh, yeah,” he said, hanging the towel back in place right as Connor peeked through the door he’d foolishly left ajar. “I’m… Hi.” 

Connor’s eyes instantly found his hair, now a bigger mess than before. “Did you wash your hair?” he said with a hint of laughter in the tone. 

Kevin stared. Could he get away with saying he took a shower? 

“Yeah.” Maybe. It would be possible that he’d taken a shower and then dried every inch of his body but left his hair a damp mess, right? It would be slightly less believable that he’d managed to dry the floor of the shower, however, and right as his hope dwindled and died, Connor’s eyes looked past him and at the open cabinet. His eyes widened and Kevin didn’t know why, so he blurted, with red cheeks and urgency, “I thought it was hair gel.” 

The corner of Connor’s mouth quirked upward, and a sharp breath left his nose as he forced his lips together and swallowed hard. He was staring right into Kevin’s eyes as he tried not to laugh, and if Kevin wasn’t so paralyzed by embarrassment, he’d probably join him. 

“It’s not,” Connor said when he dared to part his lips again, and then finally, Kevin started to regain his composure. 

“Yeah, I know that,” he said, twisting his face in scorn. “Now.” 

“Well, on the plus side,” said Connor, eyes curious. “Your hair’ll smell like strawberries.” 

Kevin was not amused. 

Connor smiled then, nodding his head toward the front door and Kevin followed him through it. 

“I thought we were having breakfast.” 

“We are,” said Connor, throwing him another smile as they climbed the stairs. “And as nice as it is being able to reach the fridge from the bed, this apartment is good for other things, too, believe it or not.” 

Kevin laughed. “Yeah?” he said, almost embarrassingly out of breath as they reached the top floor. “And what’s that?” 

Connor opened the door to the left of the stairs with his elbows since his hands were busy holding paper bags and plates, and Kevin suddenly felt dumb for not offering to help. But then Connor pushed the door wide open with his hip and smiled as he motioned for Kevin to follow him out on the roof. Or rooftop terrace, rather, and like too many times over the course of far too few days, Kevin followed unquestionably. 

The terrace was small, not the full scale of the building, but it was charming and homely, decked out with a few tables and chairs surrounded by potted plants and protected by a short, metal guardrail along the edges. Safety first, Kevin presumed. Good on you, Italy. 

Connor didn’t care for the tables, though. He didn’t even care for the chairs but went straight to the very edge opposite the door they’d come through. It felt unnecessarily careless, forgoing the designated areas to sit for the floor, but again, Kevin followed suit. 

“There are chairs you know,” he couldn’t help but point out, though. 

“I know,” said Connor, opening one of the bags and emptying its contents on a plate. “But you get a better view from here.” 

“So move the chairs closer.” 

Connor shot him a bored look. “They’re nailed to the floor.” 

Kevin nearly laughed but stopped himself when Connor’s face remained expressionless. “Why?” 

“Apparently some guys got a bit too drunk after Roma lost Coppa Italia back in ’08.” It’s funny how a seemingly normal sentence can sound so very out of place coming from the right person’s mouth. 

“Well, that explains it,” said Kevin with an amused scoff that caught Connor’s full attention, and he smiled with the corner of his mouth in a most intoxicating way. 

“Soccer stuff,” he said with a shrug. “A neighbor told me.” 

“Ah, yes.” Kevin nodded, like a true intellectual. “Sports.” 

Connor laughed. “The toy department of human life,” he said, wrinkling his nose slightly. “And somehow the most lucrative hobby.” 

“You know, I don’t think athletes would agree with calling it a hobby,” said Kevin. 

“Good,” said Connor, slicing the bread in half – where’d he get a knife from? – and opening a small bottle of… wine? At ten in the morning? “I don’t think they should make billions a year chasing a ball.” Okay, so it definitely wasn’t wine, because next thing he knew, Connor poured a few drops onto the bread, and sure, Kevin might not know Italian customs very well, but that seemed unlikely to be one of them. “D’you eat prosciutto?” 

“Yeah, sure.” Olive oil, Kevin could read on the label once Connor put the bottle down. “You have weirdly strong opinions on things.” 

“Do I?” Connor smiled to himself. “Tomatoes?” Kevin nodded. “I just think other professions like, I don’t know, teachers and firefighters and shit like that should be more valued than a bunch of sweaty men.” 

“And women.” 

“Nice sentiment but that really only applies if you’re a Williams sister – Provolone?” Kevin gave him a puzzled look. Connor clarified. “Cheese?” 

“Oh,” said Kevin, finding the concurrent conversations only slightly difficult to keep up with. “Sure. Thanks.” 

Connor smiled. “I’m not trying to pin it all on athletes, don’t get me wrong, I feel the same way about Hollywood and popstars too,” he said, pausing at the exact moment Kevin’s stomach decided to chime in with a growl. “I’m almost finished, I swear. But it’s like, we get it, you have a nice voice. Now use it to actually make a goddamn change in the world instead of singing about finding love in hopeless places and never saying never.” 

Kevin laughed, surprising them both. “Is there anything you like?” 

And Connor thought about it, _really_ thought about it, or so it seemed, before he turned back, handing Kevin one of the sandwiches and said, “I don’t know.” 

Kevin stared for a moment before remembering himself and taking the bread from Connor’s hand with faintly pink cheeks. “Oh,” he said, or, reacted might be a better word, because really, that’s what it was. When he didn’t know what to say, he’d still make a sound for some inane reason. Probably as an attempt to give himself a few more seconds to think, which only really worked a handful of times. “Well, as someone who’s planning to become a teacher, I wouldn’t have anything against switching paychecks with a professional athlete.” 

He took a bite while Connor watched, suddenly hyperaware of the way he chewed. “You’re gonna be a teacher?” he said, then, “Is it good?” 

Kevin hurriedly swallowed in order to respond, making his throat ache slightly. “I think so,” he said. “And yeah, it’s great. Thanks, by the way.” 

Connor waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t mention it,” he said before taking a bite, and after a few moments of silent eating, he continued, “You didn’t strike me as a public service kind of guy.” 

“No?” said Kevin, unsure whether that was good or bad. “What did I strike you as?” 

Connor’s lips quirked at that as he looked out over the city, watching it as if it were alive. “Oh, I don’t know, your typical young, straight-out-of-high-school Mormon,” he mused. “I’d think you’d go work at some family-owned accounting firm or start selling insurance or any of that fun stuff.” 

“Okay, not to reinforce your prejudice but I did spend this past year working for my dad,” Kevin admitted, to which Connor cocked a curious eyebrow. “At his accounting firm.” 

Connor laughed. “Called it.” 

“It was just to make some money before college though, and he thought I could use some _real-life experience_ before going on my mission, which I didn’t do, anyway, so,” Kevin said, taking another bite and once again earning Connor’s full attention and, perhaps, curiosity. But he didn’t answer, and even though the silence didn’t feel particularly uncomfortable, Kevin found himself asking, “Do I really seem that boring to you?” 

Connor, who had turned to watch the city again, looked at him for a moment that stretched to the end of time, before he laughed through his nose. “If you did, do you think you’d be here right now?” 

Perhaps that was it, the reassurance he was looking for, still he couldn’t get himself to answer. 

“I’m nice, Kevin, but I’m not a charity worker.” 

Then Kevin suddenly found his voice, and said, “Does that mean you want reimbursement for the breakfast?” 

Connor’s eyes seemed to simultaneously widen and narrow as the corner of his mouth curled into a half-smile. “That depends on how you were planning to pay.” 

Kevin’s face flushed and he wanted to look away to hide the redness in his cheeks, but he couldn’t. He could only react. “Oh.” 

Then Connor smiled, with both corners this time, and shook his head slightly. “I’m joking,” he said, and then for good measure, “Obviously.” 

That didn’t mean Kevin could stop staring, though. And it didn’t mean Connor seemed to, either, as their eyes stayed connected, Connor’s curious and Kevin’s wide open, acutely aware of every minuscule movement Connor made, be it blink, or part his lips, or lean in, or- 

“I still haven’t brushed my teeth.” 

Connor laughed softly against Kevin’s skin. They had met halfway, leaning over the plate with some leftover ingredients, Connor leaning back on his hands slightly and Kevin sort of hovering over slash in front of him. Their eyes met again, and Kevin searched for far too many answers at once in Connor’s while Connor only gazed back. Then he laughed again and said. “Kevin, you have lube in your hair. I don’t care.” 

He didn’t have time to respond before they were kissing and honestly, he didn’t care either. Connor tasted like olive oil, and it was slow, gentle, caring. Was it caring? Could a person care for someone they’d only just met a few days ago? God, why couldn’t he ever shut his brain up when he wanted to, why did it always short-circuit in the middle of an argument or while trying to express his emotions and not in times when he needed his thoughts off? Right now, for example. Right now would be a good time to keep a clear mind. 

He shook his head slightly, which was a bad decision as Connor pulled away and asked if something was wrong. “No,” Kevin assured, still shaking his head, both in answer and to quell his thoughts. “No, I just.” He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say, so instead he pushed himself on Connor again, harder and heavier and without any regard for the food or the plates or the bags, and he straddled Connor’s hips the way Connor had earlier in bed and still he needed more. He needed _something_ , only he didn’t know what. 

Connor seemed surprised by his sudden urgency but didn’t object. Until Kevin may have accidentally ground him into the stone floor, at which point he moaned – which was the greatest sound Kevin had ever heard – but then pushed them apart, gently. Kevin blushed again. 

“Are you okay?” Connor asked, which didn’t feel like a question you’d ask during… whatever this was, and Kevin awkwardly sat back on the floor beside him. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what, um.” Nicely put. 

“God, no, don’t apologize,” Connor laughed softly, sitting up next to Kevin with a careful smile. “It’s not that I didn’t like it, you just seemed a bit… rushed. Is all.” 

Kevin winced. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head again. He probably shouldn’t be pitting the blame on anything but himself, but in his defense, Kevin had never really kissed someone before. Not like that, not with fire and want. He still carried nineteen years’ worth of inexperience and at least six of them postpubescent, so he had a lot of catching up to do. 

“Hey,” said Connor, placing a tentative hand on his knee. “I just wanna make sure you don’t feel obliged to be here or anything. I don’t expect anything, you know.” He smiled, then added, “You do know that, right? I’m not pushing you too far?” 

Kevin blinked. “I’d think I was the one who pushed _you_ too far just now.” 

“I don’t mind rough,” came a very quick response, followed by a slight shrug and a brief shift in his eyes before they turned soft and ocean blue again. “But I need to know you’re alright with everything. I need to know if you feel like I’m forcing you.” 

Kevin shook his head. Again. And then offered a smile and a repeat of his earlier sentiment. “If I felt that way, do you think I’d be here right now?” 

Connor caught him echoing his question from before and raised his eyebrows slightly. “Well, yeah,” he said. “If you were scared to leave.” 

“I’m not scared, geez.” That was the dumbest thing Kevin had ever heard. Why on earth would he be _scared_? Sure, it was a little terrifying that he already felt this attached to a guy he barely knew, but he was more excited than he was scared, really. “I was honestly more scared at Mass yesterday, and that was just a bunch of old people.” 

Connor snorted, and then tilted his head to the side, his look scrutinizing in a way Kevin definitely did not mind. Only, he did, a little bit. Mostly because he wanted to know what Connor was thinking. Mostly because he was scared he wasn’t enough. 

Oh. So he was scared, just not for the reason Connor had assumed. 

“You’d tell me though, right?” asked Connor, a small crease between his eyebrows. “If you don’t wanna hang out, or make out, or I don’t know, ever see me again. You’ll tell me?” 

Despite Kevin’s tongue twisting into the most intricate of knots, he managed an, “Of course,” followed by a quick reassurance that he _did_ want those things. The only thing he omitted was just how badly he wanted them. That felt like a confession for a later date. Like, one where they had actually known each other for more than three days. 

Regardless, he promised Connor that he’d let him know however he felt, be it uncomfortable, or scared, or confused. And in return, he made Connor promise the same thing. They were, Kevin had decided just a moment ago, in this together. And dumb as it may have been, Kevin trusted Connor more than he did most anyone, maybe even including himself.

* * *

_Salt Lake City, Utah_  
_Nine years ago_

_I’m scared, Connor, Things are worse back home than I thought they’d be, and I promised I’d tell you no matter what. So._

_I’m fucking scared._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is short, I'm so sorry, but I've been swamped and this has actually been sitting in my drafts for a while now but I wasn't entirely happy with it. I'm still not but I wanted to update this story, if only to show you I'm still alive. I am feeling a bit better about this chapter now though, and I feel like I have a pretty good idea how the rest will unfold. But then again, I don't trust my brain to stay on one track throughout, so don't hold me to that.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it either way! I'm gonna try to update this regularly if I can get a break from studying, and also because I have a new fic idea that's been infesting my mind recently and I'm shit at juggling projects, so I wanna finish this before starting on that one. I'll try, anyway. Cross my heart and all that. 
> 
> Please leave a comment if you liked it, validation is to me what cocaine was to Wall Street in the eighties: ultimately a crutch but damn good motivation. Ha ha. All jokes aside, it's nice, it makes me smile and feel all gushy. It can really brighten a writer's day, if not week or month or year. That's quite a power to hold, when you think about it. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and again, I'm so sorry for the slow update! 
> 
> Stay safe and check the label before putting it in your hair


	4. midnight walks and pointless talks about the world around

_Rome, Italy_  
_Ten years ago_

Connor had to work the following days. Shifts that stretched on for hours that were so inconsistent Kevin found it difficult to keep up. One day he’d be gone from six am till just past noon, and the next he’d work into the small hours of the night. Kevin had to entertain himself on these days, and he did so by walking around, borrowing books from Connor’s apartment and reading them on the grass in a park, under a burning sun that didn’t quite manage to make his skin sizzle the way Connor did. 

It was strange, he thought, how quickly his life had turned on its head and thrown him into an adventure he had never anticipated. It truly felt surreal, as though he wasn’t actually experiencing it. As though it was, perhaps, simply a dream he’d soon wake up from and realize the plane hadn’t even landed yet. 

Connor seemed like the kind of person Kevin would make up. 

Thankfully, though, he was often reminded that it was, in fact, real. That he was actually lying on his stomach and digging his nails into the dirt, lifting them up to check if the grime remained, and it always did. His sunburn was another constant reminder that he wasn’t imagining its intensity. He hadn’t seen a sun so bright before, but the harsh light was both a comfort and a pain. And it helped him stay grounded whenever he felt his mind drifting. 

Less could be said for the days when the sky was darkened by rainclouds, because soft pattering or loud crashing of raindrops against his hotel window could easily have been imagined. There was nothing explicitly real about it, even the noise was easy to tune out after just a few minutes. So, instead of sitting inside like he’d promised he wouldn’t do, anyway, he ventured out into the storm, a yellow umbrella from the hotel gift shop his only shelter, and suddenly, he was alive again. He was real, and really there. The way his shoes became damper with every step, the way his vision blurred by the heavy rainfall, the way he finally closed his umbrella, standing by the river and succumbing to the weather. 

It might sound strange, but it was the most alive Kevin had felt in ages. Not including his moments with Connor, that is. 

This was how they met for a few days. During midnight walks, having pointless talks, and laughing or drinking or making out or nothing at all. It was comfortable in a way Kevin had never experienced before, in a way that made every nerve ending in his body stand on edge while somehow making him feel more secure than he ever had at home. It was fire; hot and wild or slow and calming, but the flame remained regardless. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get over this feeling. 

He hoped he wouldn’t have to. 

Connor seemed to thrive under the cover of darkness. His eyes came to life in the moonlight and there was a sort of freedom to him that Kevin hadn’t really seen when the sun was up. He became more playful, more brazen, and seemed to be falling completely and madly in love with the city. 

Kevin was falling completely and madly for something too, or rather, someone. 

“Okay, so tell me,” Connor said, the tongue-in-cheek tone evened out by the sincerity of his smile. “Who is Kevin Price really?” 

Kevin gave it a good five seconds before he turned to Connor. “I don’t know, actually.” 

Connor laughed, understanding. “Let’s start off easy then,” he said, hooking his left arm with Kevin’s right, which didn’t make Kevin feel anything at all. “You’re from Salt Lake, right? And you’re LDS.” 

“Was,” Kevin corrected. “But yeah.” 

“Did you go on your mission?” Connor asked. Kevin almost wanted to tell him that he already knew the answer to that, had he listened the other day, but he didn’t want to ruin the moment. He also wasn’t very keen on confronting people, so there was that, too. 

“No,” he said instead with a light shrug. “I was supposed to go this fall, but…” 

Connor waited a moment before supplying, “But instead of going to the MTC, you came to Rome?” 

Kevin huffed a laugh through his nose. “Yeah,” he said, noticing some people watching them through his peripheral view and reflexively untangled their arms. When Connor gave him a befuddled look – if not a pout, to be really honest – Kevin offered the same question in response. “Did you? Go on your mission, I mean.” 

Connor shoved his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket, because of course he wore a denim jacket. “I did,” he said, nodding to himself. “Briefly.” 

“And then you came here?” 

“No.” He laughed quietly. “I already was, actually.” 

Kevin frowned. “Wait, you served your mission here?” 

“Well, I served for about three weeks and then I told my companion and the mission president that I, um.” He was searching for the right word; Kevin could tell by the distant look in his eyes. It reminded him of his mom, which just… no. “That I couldn’t go through with it.” 

“Oh,” Kevin said, poetically. “So how long have you been here?” 

Connor shrugged. “Nine months, give or take.” 

“What did your parents say?” 

Something happened then. Kevin couldn’t quite put his finger on what, but something around them, something in their dynamic, in the air between them shifted. Kevin suddenly shivered. 

“I don’t know,” Connor responded after a few moments, keeping his eyes fixed somewhere in the distance. “I haven’t talked to them yet.” 

“In _nine_ months?” slipped Kevin’s tongue before he could stop it. So much for not judging people. 

“I guess so, yeah.” He shrugged again, his posture rigid. “I mean, I know they heard about it through the mission president, and I know my mom called once but I didn’t answer, so. That was that.” 

Kevin frowned. “I’m sorry.” 

Connor turned to him with an easy smile, waving a dismissive hand that way Kevin had learned he did when he didn’t want to delve deeper into a topic. It was understandable, Kevin reasoned. He knew just as well as anybody that family can be difficult, even cruel at times, and considering how his own parents had reacted to him leaving the Church, he could only guess Connor’s didn’t exactly throw him a going-away party, either. 

Mormons are nice people, kindhearted and simple, always ready to offer a hand, but they are also very set in their ways, very traditional. Very dubious to change, which was something Kevin had to learn the hard way. He’d always considered his community open-minded and accepting because after all, they did spend an awful lot of time helping people, providing services without being asked, smiling at everyone, and giving most people the benefit of the doubt, depending on the situation. But being nice is inherently different from being good. You can be nice _and_ talk behind people’s backs. You can be nice _and_ abuse your spouse behind closed doors. You can be nice _and_ racist, or misogynistic, or homophobic. But Kevin wouldn’t label anyone who did such things as a good person. 

And he was extremely aware that that included himself, too. 

Most people, like Mormons, fall somewhere in the middle. A sort of moral gray area inhabited by people who generally mean well, but all share the fatal flaw of being human. They make mistakes, they say stupid things without thinking, they alienate a loved one for living their truth. It’s a depressing realization. It’s life. 

“Do you ever miss them?” he asked when they reached the river and Connor shrugged. 

“Sometimes,” he said, sinking down onto the grass. “Mostly I just wonder how they are.”

* * *

_Salt Lake City, Utah_  
_Nine years ago_

_My parents kicked me out. For like two days, before they realized it made them look bad in the eyes of the Church, despite everything. I’m fine, we’re talking things through. I wouldn’t say they’ve accepted me, precisely, but they’re asking questions, they’re swallowing pride – not a common thing in the Price household – and I think we might be okay, someday. They kind of think you’re the devil, though. That you lured me in, that you made me gay – how insane is that?_

_Granted, I wasn’t sure until you. I didn’t know, I’m still not one hundred percent, but this – what I’m feeling, who I am, it isn’t because of or thanks to anybody. There’s no explanation, no satisfying answer, no grand revelation. It just is. I just am. I don’t think I should need a reason to be myself. I don’t think I need proof._

_I used to be so hung up on what people thought about me. It was the only thing on my mind from the moment I woke up to the second I fell asleep. I adapted, bent, tailored myself to other’s expectations. I became the person I thought people wanted me to be without ever considering if it was who_ I _wanted to be. We shouldn’t have to do that, we shouldn’t have to feel like we’re simply filling a role, trapped in the frameworks of those who came before us. We don’t have to and I’m not going to._

_You’re the first person I met who truly went outside of the box you’d been placed in. You broke the glass ceiling for me, you showed me there was more._

_I wanted to do the same for you, but I guess I wasn’t the right person. Perhaps you’ll find your own Connor, one day. Perhaps you’ll learn to listen to your own advice._

* * *

_Rome, Italy_  
_Ten years ago_

It was Wednesday, Connor was working, and Kevin was lying on his stomach in Connor’s bed, flipping through the pages of _Jane Eyre_ , another book in the collection of many. The cover is blank on this one too, just like most of the books on Connor’s shelves, and it had the same silvery font written across the front. 

_Prejudices, it is well known, are most difficult to eradicate from the heart whose soil has never been loosened or fertilized by education: they grow there, firm as weeds among stones._

Connor was a messy reader, one of those people who always had a pen close by in case there was an exceptionally good quote that needed to be underlined, who scribbled along the sides his thoughts and opinions, in hurried letters and graceful cursive, which felt like an oxymoron but worked so well. Kevin had gone through a couple by now, had skimmed the pages of _Great Expectations, Giovanni’s Room, Little Women, David Copperfield, Middlemarch, The Picture of Dorian Gray_ , and many more he could barely remember. See, Kevin wasn’t reading them for the story, he was reading them through Connor’s notes. 

And Connor McKinley had a lot of thoughts on just about everything, or so it seemed. Kevin had never met anyone who was his own person as much and as freely as Connor, and he hoped desperately, that one day, he too would dare become a version he could proudly call The Real Kevin Price. There were fragments, sure. Thoughts and dreams and wishes that spoke of a man with meaning, with purpose, but he had identified with the Church for so long, he wasn’t even certain where to begin. 

So instead, he picked up another book. And another. And then a third for good measure since Connor wouldn’t be back for at least an hour. 

By the time the front door opened, a pile of blank-cover books had accumulated beside him on the bed. Connor’s mouth quirked into a smile when he noticed. 

“Keeping busy?” he said, stripping out of his work clothes. 

Kevin very pointedly turned his focus back to the book in front of him. “Something like that.” He looked back up when Connor had pulled a pair of shorts on, his back turned so that Kevin could follow the trail of freckles leading down his spine without being caught. He wasn’t sure why he tried to hide his attraction, considering he very clearly enjoyed kissing Connor, but there was something about this, the intimacy of now practically sharing a shoebox of an apartment that made him aware of every little thing Connor did and turned his cheeks a very telling shade of pink. “You read a lot.” 

Connor didn’t turn around to answer, “So do you, apparently,” but Kevin could hear the smile on his lips anyway. 

It wasn’t true, though, Connor’s response. Kevin had only read as much as he’d been forced by teachers. The only book he actually remembered a single line from was the Book of Mormon, and that was mainly due to the very pages being imprinted in his brain. Reading for fun had never even occurred to him before, and in all fairness, the main reason he was reading now was to get to know Connor even when he wasn’t around. To learn the patterns of his thoughts, the way his mind worked, his likes and dislikes, and what phrases caught in his head like songs. 

He could just ask these things, sure, but there was no way he’d get the same answers. No way he’d get to experience the kneejerk reactions and streams of consciousness that emerged when left alone, to his own devices. People were never truly honest in the presence of others, and Kevin wanted to understand Connor in any possible way he could. 

He sat up again, crossing his legs on the bed, and let a hand run over the rough edges of Walt Whitman’s _Leaves of Grass_ , his fingers tracing the letters written in silver across the front. 

_I am large, I contain multitudes._

“Why do you take the covers off?” he asked. 

Connor turned to look at him then, his brows knitted together before he seemed to make the connection. “Oh, the book covers?” he asked. Kevin nodded. “I like to make them my own. Give them some personality, you know.” 

“Don’t they have personality already, though?” Kevin wondered. “I mean, someone wrote them. There’s gotta be some trace of that, right?” 

Connor met his eyes, his mouth turned a half-smile as he shrugged. “I guess I just like to imagine I could ever make a mark on them the way they did me.” 

He considered those words as he picked up _De Profundis_ by Oscar Wilde; as he read 

_Most people are other people._  
_Their thoughts are someone else’s opinions,_  
_their lives a mimicry,_  
_their passions a quotation._

scribbled across the front. This copy was ragged, not at all smooth as many of the other books in his collection, and Kevin realized then, that Connor had scraped the cover off this one. There hadn’t been a dustjacket he could simply remove, it had been printed directly onto the cover and yet, that hadn’t stopped him. 

Part of him wanted to point out that deconstructing books like this made them decrease in value, and to some extent, in beauty. Part of him wanted Connor to deconstruct him the very same way. 

Kevin didn’t know it was possible to be jealous of a paperback, but here he was, glaring at the pages as though they had offended him personally. 

The thing about Connor’s books was that they weren’t just books. They were so much more than Kevin would probably ever understand. It seemed that to Connor, they were worlds in which he resided when reality became too much. They were a mirror of his own person, a way to view himself without the expectations, without the responsibilities, with only the words before him and the ones his mind responded with. They were an escape, but they were also as real as the earth beneath him. They were the streets he walked, the words he spoke, the air he breathed. They were part of him, or perhaps he was part of them. 

Kevin didn’t know which he’d prefer. He only knew that either way, he wanted to be there as well. He wanted to be a part of Connor and for Connor to be a part of him. He wanted more than he ever had to be in someone’s life, and it was safe to say, it was a tiny bit startling.

* * *

_Seattle, Washington_  
_Five years ago_

_Connor,_

_“I can resist everything except temptation.”_

_Yours always,_  
_Kevin_

* * *

_Rome, Italy_  
_Ten years ago_

The moon illuminated his path as he made his way down backstreets and alleyways – _a shortcut_ , Connor had told him. _A shortcut my ass_ , Kevin would tell him right back. It might have taken him less time had he known it by heart the way Connor surely did, but the twists and turns of cobblestoned pathways felt more like a labyrinth to Kevin than any corn maze he’d ever been to. 

He arrived at Otello after another fifteen minutes of thinking up reasons why _a shortcut_ was the worst possible definition of what he’d just gone through, but then Connor walked out of the staff entrance, and somehow, it suddenly felt less important. 

Connor smiled when he spotted him, wasted no time with pleasantries and pulled Kevin into a kiss by the neck, and somewhere between the way his breath caught in Connor’s throat and the soft noise he made in return, the shortcut debacle he’d concocted in his mind washed away, pulled under by the riptide of Connor’s hands on his waist. God, he could lose himself forever in that embrace. 

“Come on, I wanna get to Titas before they close,” Connor said as he pulled away, already turned on his heel and dragging Kevin along by the hand. 

Within a few minutes, they reached the minimarket and Connor made quick work of picking out a cheap bottle of Chardonnay that he paid for in cash before Kevin was once again pulled away, this time toward the Pons Cestius – the bridge leading from Trastevere to Isola Tiberino, the Tiber Island. 

They had passed it a few times before on their way across the river, but they had never stayed for long. That is until tonight, as Connor veered off the main street and instead ventured right, along the river to the very edge where he plopped down on the stairs facing the water. There were no streetlights on this part of the island, but thankfully, the moon stood high, reflected in the calm waves around them and the glass bottle in Connor’s hand alike. 

For a second, when Connor threw his head back laughing, the bright light, through shadows of tall trees, rested on his skin, making his freckles look as though they were dancing across his face, and when he opened his eyes, they shone in that enthralling way that made Kevin’s heart beat twice as fast. He thought then, that it didn’t matter where they were, Kevin would look at Connor in the darkness of night, moonbeams turning the blue a faint silver as they lit up his eyes. Kevin would remember him like this forever. 

A bottle of wine and an hour later, they deserted the island to just walk again. Kevin would have been perfectly fine staying in one spot, but it seemed Connor had a lot of energy to rid himself of. Or perhaps he just got restless. Either way, Kevin gladly followed. As long as Connor held onto his hand like this, as long as their fingers stayed interlaced, he was beginning to realize he’d follow Connor anywhere. 

“What time is it?” Connor asked after they’d stopped to rest at a bench some time ago, holding Kevin’s hand up to his chest with his own, picking at the dirt under his nails. 

Kevin dug his phone out of his pocket. “Almost two am,” he said, and Connor only hummed. “Are you tired?” 

“Am I ever not?” He smiled at Kevin’s hand, inspecting it closely before looking up at him. “Do you wanna head back?” 

The fact that he’d even ask, that he had no problem with Kevin pretty much living with him made Kevin’s head spin. But then he remembered, on their way here, they’d passed the hotel Kevin was still paying for despite barely spending any time in his room, and he wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t a bad idea, but his eyes were heavy and his bloodstream spiked with alcohol. 

So he said, “I think we’re actually closer to my hotel right now,” and hoped it didn’t sound as telling as it felt. 

Connor looked around for a moment, as though he didn’t believe it at first. “You know, I think you’re right,” came his conclusion, followed by an airy laugh. “But I don’t wanna impose.” 

“You’re not.” 

It took Kevin no time at all to reassure him and yet, Connor watched him with hesitant eyes before asking, “Are you sure?” and despite Kevin nodding his head faster than he ever had, he added, “Because it’s only, like, a twenty-minute walk to my place,” and Kevin had to literally grab Connor’s hands with his own, holding them up in front of himself, close enough to kiss if he only leaned in a little. 

Which he didn’t, but said instead, “Stay.” And then for good measure, “Please.” 

And that was how, for the first time in the two weeks they had known each other, Connor got to see where Kevin was supposed to sleep, and it should come as no shock that upon seeing the queen-sized bed with soft sheets and fluffy covers, he scowled. 

“I can’t believe you’ve given this up for my twin-size all this time,” he laughed, falling on his back. 

“It’s not all that great. Gets a bit cold.” 

Connor shot him an amused look, kicking his shoes off and rolling over on his side, patting the space beside him in what could only be an invitation, Kevin assumed. 

“You can’t possibly suggest you get cold with all these covers,” Connor said, a lazy smile on his face that Kevin mirrored without a second thought. 

“You’re warmer,” he said, and he didn’t intend for it to be so obvious, or perhaps he did, but the fact of the matter was out there, written in silver letters across his forehead: _If you cannot love me, I will die._

He never was that good with words, anyway. 

It all happened so fast after that. Words were replaced by lips, the space between them soon gone, and hands roamed further than they ever had. Connor’s shirt hit the floor, shortly followed by Kevin’s, and then he couldn’t think straight anymore because Connor kissed his neck _with teeth_ in a way that shouldn’t feel as right as it did. It was terrifying in all the best ways, how quickly he could fall for someone. 

Connor’s mouth ventured downward, hands reaching up to lock with Kevin’s and it wasn’t until his lips met the hem of his pants that he looked up, his eyes a vibrant blue and _Jesus Christ_ , Kevin was gone. He didn’t need to think about it – didn’t have time to think about it, he just wanted and needed and honest-to-god ached to explore the one feeling he’d denied himself for so long. 

“Have you ever-“ 

“No.” 

“Do you want-“ 

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kevin is very dramatic, yes. This chapter turned into a full-on homage to queer writers and I don't regret a single thing. 
> 
> Again, I know this is pretty short but it felt like it ended naturally and I didn't wanna cram in some half-assed shit just because, I'm actually surprised I managed to get anything written on this, I've been so swamped with school stuff. (Then again, I _did_ tell myself I'd go to be early today to get a headstart tomorrow morning and it is now almost four am soooooo)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it, and if you did, y'all already know I feed on comments like a truly annoying and very non-threatening mosquito. I don't have malaria, just a very fragile ego. 
> 
> These a/ns really get weirder with every chapter, huh. Anyway, hope you're all doing well! Since a lot of countries are going back into lockdown, please take care of yourselves - physically and mentally - and above all else, stay safe (and blah blah bible jesus magic).


	5. now it feels everything's come undone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not dead, I swear. Nor is this fic, I've just a very mentally draining fall/winter and the two writing courses I took last semester kinda sapped all the creativity out of my head so writing since then has been a no-go. Except for the Christmas thingy, but if you read the second one I posted you might be well aware that I planned to have it finished by New Year's and ????? Hello, January called, you overestimated your abilities to stick to schedules again. And to everyone who left a comment on the small addition to pizzaverse I posted before Christmas, thank you so much. I haven't had the energy to respond yet but they gave me life and I will get to it, I promise. 
> 
> I'm really sorry it's taken me so long to update this story though, and I hope to update again sometime soon, but I just started my last semester of uni and shit is tough, so don't hold me to anything, thanks. I hope you enjoy this chapter regardless, and be warned, for as always, I have not proofread anything. It's past four in the morning cut me some slack thank you and good night

_Rome, Italy_  
_Ten years ago_

He woke up with a jolt later that night. In cold sweats, his breathing heavy. The images were still vivid in his mind, painted black by the darkness around and inside him both. There were faces, voices, _names_ – how did they always know his name – and he clenched the sheet with both hands. He needed something to hold on to, something real, something tangible, something that wasn’t— 

A nightmare. One he hadn’t had in years. 

It was right on cue, as though it had been waiting for a moment to emerge again. Lurking in the back of his mind, stalking him like prey. It was a _thought_ , for christ’s sake. A dream. How could he let himself be tossed around by something so subliminal like this? How could he allow himself to be tormented by shame he no longer felt? 

Or, should feel, might be more appropriate. 

As though waking up from an internalized-homophobia-induced nightmare wasn’t enough, he could sense Connor beginning to stir beside him. 

He’d nearly forgotten they were in his hotel room and not Connor’s apartment, but despite the extra space in the bed, there wasn’t much between them. 

“What’s wrong?” Connor asked, his hand coming up from under the covers to wrap around Kevin’s wrist. 

“Nothing,” Kevin lied. 

Connor huffed. Or maybe it was a sigh, Kevin wasn’t sure. “I’ve known you for two weeks and even I can tell you’re lying.” 

He sat quietly for a while. Staring into the darkness around them, the only light, silver moonbeams forcing themselves through the blinds in the window. Everything felt so misplaced – the two of them in Kevin’s hotel room, the sudden apparition of a nightmare he hadn’t had in years, the peaceful atmosphere. Like the calm before the storm – or midway through – Kevin felt as though he was standing in the eye of a hurricane. 

“Are you okay with…” He trailed off, rubbing the heels of his hands at his eyes as he let out a soft noise, something between a sigh and a groan, and Connor shifted beside him, sitting up and wrapping his arms around Kevin’s middle, his chin propped on Kevin’s shoulder. 

“With what?” 

Something in him flicked, and he had to work harder than he liked to resist the urge to flinch away. Connor’s touch was _good_. Nothing like the cold hands he’d felt in his sleep, haunted eyes peering at him from the darkest parts of his subconscious. But that was a dream, and Connor was here, right now, holding him not because he had to or felt obliged, but because he wanted to. 

At least Kevin hoped he wanted to. 

“With this?” 

Connor leaned back slightly, pulling Kevin with him and nudging his chin with his hand until Kevin turned to look at him. Connor’s eyes sparkled despite the darkness, silver moonbeams dancing in the blue. “What do you mean?” 

Kevin winced, averting his eyes and pressing them shut. “Being with a guy?” He felt stupid for even asking. “Like this… intimately?” 

“No.” Kevin’s eyes flicked open again, his gaze instantly finding Connor’s. His brows were pulled together, a soft crease formed between them as he stared somewhere beside Kevin’s face, eyes going blank and distant. Kevin waited for him to continue. “But I’ve hated myself long enough to… forget it, I guess.” 

That was hardly the answer he had hoped for. In fact, it was probably worse than anything he had expected Connor to say. Like _yes_ or _sometimes_ or _I am with you_. “Why?” 

Connor didn’t answer but countered with the same question. “Are you okay with it?” 

And for a second, he wanted to say the things Connor hadn’t – _yes_ or _sometimes_ or _I am with you_ – yet all his thoughts kept buzzing inside his head like a shaken soda can. Everything had felt so natural – _still_ felt natural – but it was the part where he admitted those feelings out loud that had him so on edge. 

“I don’t know,” he said after a while, and Connor hummed in response, leaning back in and nestling his face into the skin where Kevin’s shoulder met his neck. If Kevin closed his eyes, his lids strained from concentration, he could push the thoughts back and focus on Connor’s breath against his skin. 

Lips brushed the lobe of his ears as Connor whispered, “Maybe we just need to try again.” A shiver made its way down his spine slowly, every nerve ending in his body suddenly caught aflame. “You know”—he smiled against Kevin’s neck—“get accustomed.” 

“Yeah?” Kevin breathed. 

Connor let out a soft laugh as he pulled away, this time nudging Kevin back until his head met the pillow, and curling up beside him, hooking one leg over Kevin’s hip. “I didn’t like coffee the first time I tried it,” he said, leaning on one elbow as he ran his other hand up and down Kevin’s chest. 

Their eyes met again, and Kevin posed a silent question with the barely perceptible lift of his eyebrows, but Connor noticed, because of course he did. A moment passed where they only looked at each other, and Kevin knew he would be happy to do just that, forever, but then Connor leaned back in and pressed their lips together in a soft, chaste kiss that left Kevin’s skin all but tingling. 

“Maybe we’ll learn.” Connor traced Kevin’s jaw with his lips, “to be,” dipping below Kevin’s ear, his nose brushing against the short hairs on his neck, “okay.” 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, the demons remained, just below the surface, but Kevin felt like he was learning to swim instead of treading water, like he’d only made it this far by fighting to stay above and now that he knew Connor – now that he held him and kissed him and cared – he almost felt, for lack of a better word, okay.  


* * *

_Logan, Utah_  
_Seven years ago_

_Do you remember when I asked if you were okay with us? When I asked if being with another man the way we’ve been taught is inherently wrong, bordering on evil, bothered you? Do you remember what you said?_

Maybe we’ll learn _, you told me._ Maybe we’ll learn to be okay. 

_I am. Now. Only took me three years, but I never once regretted our time together. Every memory I have of you – of us – is accompanied by this steady, calming beat of my heart that somehow manages to fill my body with warm nostalgia, painting images in my mind of your face, your eyes. I memorized them, you know. God, how could I not? I see you more than you’d probably believe, only it usually occurs in the deepest stages of my REM sleep. I wake up, and I know._

_And then everything goes hollow again._

_So, you were right. I learned to be okay._

_Now I only wish I could learn how to let you go._

* * *

_Rome, Italy_  
_Ten years ago_

They were sat on a bench by the river, Connor sipping on his mocha while Kevin toyed with the plastic straw in his iced tea. Even after leaving the church, he had struggled with breaking some – _most_ – habits. Among them, coffee. He had tasted it before, and part of him wanted to just say _fuck it_ and do it again, but after last night’s hellish dream, he didn’t want to push his luck. But then again, he hadn’t had too many qualms with the wine, and the nightly terror had only appeared after going that one extra step he never had before. Not with someone else, at least. So why did a cup of coffee instill so much worry in him? 

As if on cue, Connor turned to him and asked, “What are you thinking about?” 

“Coffee.” 

Connor arched an eyebrow before holding the paper cup out to him. “Do you wanna try it?” 

“No,” he laughed, not quite swatting Connor’s hand away but waving his own around lazily in the air. “No, I was just thinking… It’s one of the rules I’ve yet to break. And somehow it seems to be the hardest one, how crazy is that?” 

Connor smiled. “You know you don’t _have_ to break the rules, right? I know you’ve got this whole rebellious act going on, what with leaving the church and going to Europe on a whim, but… there’s no pressure to do anything you feel uncomfortable with.” 

Kevin didn’t answer. It felt like Connor was hinting at something other than coffee. Something he’s been told is practically synonymous with a criminal offense. Something he just tried for the first time. Something that might cause him to wake up in cold sweats in the middle of— 

“Last night?” It sounded like a question, but Connor quickly added, “I hope I didn’t push you too far.” 

And then Kevin laughed. He hadn’t meant to, but he couldn’t help himself because if anything, Kevin had been the eager one. Kevin hadn’t even let him finish when asking for consent – which he appreciated more than he acknowledged – but he had been taken over, consumed by want, need, a craving he hadn’t experienced before, at least not this intense. 

Connor was watching him with an inscrutable expression, but the slight twitch in the corner of his mouth was enough to keep Kevin from blushing too hard. “You didn’t,” he said regardless, worried Connor would take his reaction the wrong way, but his lips curled into a genuine smile as he gave a small, adorable laugh, too. 

“So it’s just the coffee, then?” 

Kevin winced slightly. There were other things, no doubt, but they were things he only rarely encountered, anyway. He could stomach the wine because of the sweetness and the unmistakably giddy feeling that seemed to settle in his gut after the first sip. He could live with kissing Connor because something in the silvery specks strewn across the blue of his eyes told him he didn’t need to worry, told him he was safe and wanted and, not quite but near enough, loved. 

Instead of answering, Kevin turned the spotlight around, and said, “You know, I’m kinda surprised how unfazed you are by all this.” Connor hummed beside him. “What would the church say if they saw you right now?” 

“Oh, I do lots of things the church wouldn’t be too keen about.” The laugh that escaped him was airy. Not forced or strained, but distant. Kevin would have said wistful, if it did not feel so incredibly misplaced. But there was something about it, something that sparked a sudden flame of curiosity, the notion to dig deeper snowballing in his mind. 

Instead, he smiled, though cautiously, and said, “Like drink coffee?” 

Connor all but snorted. “Sure.” 

“And smoke?” 

Then he stilled, his brows knitting before he even turned his head to stare at Kevin, his expression damn near unreadable. “I don’t smoke.” 

He felt like maybe he had said the wrong thing, that maybe he shouldn’t push it, but Connor’s eyes were searching his face and it made him want to know more, go below the surface, see the things Connor even bothered to try to hide from him. So he said, “I saw you,” and watched as Connor’s frown grew more pronounced, the crease between his brows deepening as he opened and closed his mouth a few times. Kevin hadn’t seen him speechless before, and though it probably shouldn’t have been, it was absolutely exhilarating, having that sort of effect on another person. “The first time we were meeting up,” he explained when he caught himself enjoying Connor squirm for just a beat too long, and a flash of recognition lit up his eyes for a moment. “You were standing outside Otello. Smoking.” 

Connor’s eyes narrowed, and it took him a few seconds before he opened his mouth to answer. “That doesn’t count.” Kevin cocked an eyebrow, prompting him to continue. “It’s a… nervous habit. It’s not like I’m addicted or anything, it’s just a way to take the edge off.” 

Part of Kevin wanted to point out that that was, probably – not that he had any experience of his own – how addictions started. Another part wanted to find every other crack in Connor’s perfect facade. 

“I don’t judge.” 

A silence settled between them, and though it wasn’t the same easy silence that usually encapsulated them, this one wasn’t awkward, either. It was understanding, it was precisely what Kevin had suggested – nonjudgmental. Forgiving, despite there being nothing no need for forgiveness, really. 

After a while, Connor took another sip of the coffee he seemed to have forgotten, a small smile on his lips as they came back up. “Isn’t that what you were raised to do?” When Kevin only frowned, he added, “Judge?” 

“Oh.” Kevin’s expression softened, his mouth mirroring Connor’s, tugging slightly more at the left corner than the right. “Well, I left, remember?” 

There was a slight hesitation in his movements, but nonetheless, Connor nodded, an almost amused, “Right,” slipping his tongue. 

“It’s just the whole religion thing.” Kevin shrugged. “It’s not for me, I guess. Too formal, and expectant, and just _stiff_.” 

Connor watched him for a moment, a low hum as he thought. Kevin could see the cogs turning in his eyes. “Well, it’s subjective, you know?” Connor took another sip of his mocha as he turned to watch the small waves in the water. “Religion, I mean.” 

Kevin followed his gaze. The sunlight danced across the river, white glimmering that reminded him of Christmas lights. “Is it?” 

Connor winced. “It should be.” 

“A lot of things _should_ be. That doesn’t mean they are.” 

Connor threw him a quick glance but didn’t answer. 

“There _should be_ world peace. There _should be_ enough food to keep children from starving. There _should be_ -“ 

“Okay, yeah, you made your point.” Connor rolled his eyes, his brows pulled down by the motion. “What I’m saying is, I don’t think you mean religion itself, it’s just… the way we go about it. The way we have to organize it, like believing isn’t enough.” 

There was some truth to that, Kevin supposed. The main reason he had left the Church was that he couldn’t stand some of the things it stood for, some of the practices. The list of rules. The sins. The missions and expectations and the godforsaken weight on his back, like he was carrying the world and then some. But there was also the notion that, even without the Church, without the rules and weights, Kevin struggled to believe in any god, never mind Heavenly Father. Just like Connor believed things should be, Kevin believed things also should not. 

There should not be wars. There should not be starving children in any part of the world. There should not be oppression, implicit or not. If there was a god, and if all it truly took was to pray and believe and live honorably, how could he justify the unfair state of the world? How could he justify inequality? Racism? Homophobia? 

And, perhaps, more to the point, why should Kevin fear the wrath of God for something so innate as loving another person, when some of the worst criminals – often self-proclaimed believers – never faced any consequences for their actions? 

“I hate organized religion.” Kevin was pulled back to reality by Connor’s words and realized that was probably the first time he had heard Connor use the word ‘hate’ to describe his feelings. Well, apart from this morning, anyway. “Organized anything is… It just means there’s someone in charge, you know? So it doesn’t matter if you’re trying to live by God, or a book. There will always be someone else behind the curtains, someone who makes the rules, pulls the strings.” He was watching the water again, fiddling with the sleeve on his cup. “I don’t think that’s what God intended.” 

Kevin already knew Connor still believed, yet he couldn’t help the brief sting in his chest, nor the question that escaped his throat before he could stop it. “So you still believe then?” Maybe he was hoping for a deeper answer, something tangible he could cling to. 

“In God, yes.” He paused, inhaling sharply. “In institutionalized religion, no.” 

Those didn’t feel like different things to Kevin. Where there was a god, there was an institution – be it a church, a state, a community – and where there was an institution, there would often be a god – be it a literal, philosophical, symbolic one. 

“Well, you can’t really have one without the other, can you?” 

“Sure you can.” Connor shrugged. “I mean, I didn’t complete my mission, and I’m not exactly shooting for a position in the Quorum. I can keep the faith and renounce the practice.” 

“What’s that gonna be like when…” Kevin trailed off, not certain how to put his thoughts into words, how to say the right thing. He didn’t want to push _too_ far, believe it or not, but he also needed to know. He needed to know where exactly Connor stood, whether he had a game plan, and, perhaps, if there was room in it for Kevin. “When you go back home?” 

He realized that had not been the right thing, either way, when Connor averted his gaze and let his eyes find the waves again. When the fiddling stopped, and Connor’s body seemed to tense up in a way Kevin had never felt. When he swallowed, loud enough to hear over the near-but-distant conversations of passersby behind them. Kevin winced inwardly, feeling his gut twisting with something he couldn’t quite define. 

“I don’t know.” Connor’s voice was firm. Not loud, not trembling, just firm, level. 

Kevin reached out, watching Connor’s face as he placed his hand carefully on his wrist. “You know, you can keep the faith if you leave, too.” 

Connor didn’t look at him when he said, “You didn’t,” and for some reason, Kevin felt guilty. For what, he wasn’t sure. The best thing for him had never been staying with the Church. It hadn’t even been the _right_ thing. He had no obligation to believe, to give up his entire life to a cause he felt did more harm to society than good, but a part of him knew that wasn’t the case for Connor. 

Still, Connor let Kevin’s hand slide down his wrist and didn’t protest when he laced their fingers together which gave Kevin just enough hope to pretend this was more than just a summer fling. More than the stranger he’d been instantly infatuated with, more than rebellion. It felt like nothing he had ever experienced before, and perhaps, if he closed his eyes and focused on the way Connor’s hand reciprocated Kevin’s squeeze, he could believe that feeling was mutual. 

“Doesn’t mean you can’t,” he said, his voice almost a croak and he immediately felt Connor’s eyes on him. “If religion is subjective, isn’t faith, too?” 

He turned and their eyes locked. The silver sparkle in Connor’s appeared as he tilted his head slightly, and before Kevin had time to register anything but that beautiful mix of colors, Connor was laughing quietly, closing his eyes as he shook his head. “You’re smarter than you look sometimes.” 

Kevin feigned hurt. “Are you saying I don’t look smart?” 

“No, I’m saying you look like a goddamn supermodel and yet here you are, turning my argument back at me without batting an eye.” 

Kevin mirrored his smile, arching a brow in a way he hoped came off as teasing. “So, you’re saying models can’t be smart?” 

Connor rolled his eyes but laughed nonetheless. “You’re really gonna ignore the compliment I just paid you to point out my prejudice?” 

“Well, someone’s gotta be your moral compass.” Kevin poked him with his elbow. Which didn’t go great since they’re holding hands but that’s beside the point. 

Connor’s eyes dropped for a moment before he smiled and looked back up. “You’ll make a good teacher one day.” 

Kevin blushed.

* * *

_Seattle, Washington_  
_Five years ago_

_Well, I did it. I’m a teacher now. For real. And I hope you were right, Connor. Those words have stuck with me all these years, they wormed themselves under my skin, into my brain, they were everywhere. Still are, but I never felt the full power of them until my first student teaching. You wouldn’t believe how simultaneously endearing and insufferable kids can be. One sneezed right in my face which was great. Another would not shut up and I was this close to losing my patience when I remembered you._

_Sometimes there’s more to someone’s story. Sometimes acting out can be cries for help._

_Technically I can’t disclose any of this to you, so if I ever do end up sending these: burn this one, thanks._

_The kid in question was diagnosed with ADHD about a year later, and the parents weren’t the most understanding, especially when it came to medication and treatment. The only reason I was even involved at that point – this was after I finished my student teaching at that school – was because the kid, whom I had spent half the semester trying to get through to, reached out to me through his English teacher. Which is inappropriate on so many levels, least of all on my part because I actually went back to class and sat down with them._

_Sometimes it only takes one person to change a life. And middle school is a time when a lot of kids need that person. I think I found mine at twenty, but I suppose in a sense, things worked out all right either way._

* * *

_Rome, Italy_  
_Ten years ago_

Connor was home when Kevin made it back to the apartment, propped up on his elbows where he lay on the bed, a book in his hands. He wasn’t sure why, but the mere sight made Kevin’s insides turn to goo. Which was not made any easier when Connor looked up, catching his eyes and smiling. 

“Book,” Kevin deadpanned, because the way Connor was looking at him simply turned his brain to mush and it made forming actual, full sentences very difficult. When Connor’s forehead wrinkled and his left eyebrow formed a soft arch, Kevin closed his eyes for a moment, collecting himself, telling himself it was _just a look_ , and finally, he managed, “I got you a book.” 

“What?” A surprised laugh bubbled out of Connor as Kevin dug through his messenger bag to give to him. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

After a few seconds of rummaging around, Kevin gave up and dropped the bag to the floor, kneeling beside it to use both hands. How it was possible to lose something as big as a book in a bag with only one main compartment was beyond him, but that didn’t mean he got any less annoyed when he found that what he was looking for had somehow sunken to the very bottom despite being the last thing he put inside. With a, probably, too triumphant grin, he pulled it out and handed it to Connor who accepted it with curious, if not surprised, eyes. 

“You bought this?” 

“Well, uh. No.” He cringed as the words left his mouth, hearing just how crass that sounded. Saying you got someone a book usually entailed you doing more work than walking down a street and being offered one by a stranger. “A guy gave it to me while I was headed down Via del Moro. For free.” 

Connor hummed as he inspected the book, then a stifled laugh seemed to exit his mouth without his permission as he tried to hide it with a cough. “Dianetics, huh?” he said, looking up at Kevin with amused eyes. “ _The Modern Science of Mental Health_?” 

“I thought your shelves could use some science on them.” Kevin shrugged. “Apparently it’s a whole thing. There’s even a course you can take.” 

“Kevin, this isn’t science.” This time he wasted no energy trying to hide his grin. Kevin frowned. “It’s scientology.” 

A protest was hot on his tongue by instinct, but he swallowed the words as he repeated what Connor had said in his mind. Wait. “What?” 

“L. Ron Hubbard?” Connor pointed to the name on the cover, a tantalizing eyebrow raised. “He created scientology. This is literally a cult, Kevin.” 

Kevin frowned again, feeling the strain in his forehead as he stared at the book in Connor’s hands. “He didn’t mention anything about religion.” 

Connor laughed. “Well, I don’t know the ins and outs exactly, but I know it’s a cult.” He sat up on the bed, abandoning the book which let Kevin reach out and grab it again, turning it over to see what he’d missed. “I think in some countries it’s technically considered a religion, but you know.” He shrugged as if Kevin would understand. Kevin did not. 

“But there’s a comment from Tom Cruise on the back.” 

“Oh, babe,” Connor laughed, and Kevin was too deep in thought to fully register the nickname before Connor spoke again. “He’s one of them.” 

Kevin lifted his eyes, meeting Connor’s amused gaze, and said, unironically, “Tom Cruise is in a cult?” 

Connor snorted. “Shocking, isn’t it?” He widened his eyes with a dramatic flair that made Kevin huff out a laugh despite trying his damnedest to stay serious. “Add John Travolta and Elisabeth Moss to that list and you have a Greek tragedy.” 

For some reason, it wouldn’t settle in his mind. Something about the whole thing felt so incredibly wrong but he could not, for the love of all that’s holy, even begin to pin down exactly what. 

“So that guy,” he started, staring somewhere between him and Connor, his eyes blurring as they slid out of focus, “was trying to—” 

“Recruit you?” Connor finished for him with a small smile. “Probably.” He pulled on Kevin’s arm until he conceded and got up from the floor, taking a seat beside Connor on the bed with a sigh. Connor poked him with his elbow. “Good thing you’re so smart.” 

“Hey.” Kevin barely bothered sending him a pointed glare, a smile tugging at his own lips as he turned to look at this really interesting piece of lint on Connor’s sleeve. “You know what it reminds me of?” Connor only hummed as Kevin reached out, compulsively picking the lint off him with his thumb and index finger before flicking it to the floor. “This other little-known religious branch that is considered a cult by some and recruits people by stopping them on the street.” 

Connor shot him a side glance, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Careful.” 

“If you didn’t quit your mission,” Kevin continued regardless, eyes turned playful. “You’d probably be out there with him. You’d probably be his _rival_.” When Connor only responded with another stern look, Kevin said, “Come on, you said you renounced the practice.” 

“I said I _could_ ,” Connor corrected, looking away. “Not that I have.” 

Kevin suddenly got very aware of himself. His legs resting awkwardly on the floor, not quite stretched out but bent slightly at the knee. His hands still holding the book, right arms brushing against Connor’s left. He felt very heavy, like the bed might break if he shifted all his weight to it. 

“Are we talking about this again?” His voice was quiet despite that not being his intention, and Connor looked at him briefly before turning to stare at his hands. 

“You know what?” he said and looked up to meet Kevin’s eyes again. “Let’s not. Let’s not talk at all.” 

And Kevin would have taken him up on that suggestion if it weren’t for the words resting on his tongue, waiting to be set free and spoken aloud, or better yet, written across the sky in silver letters. Whatever this was – whatever they meant to each other – it was something, something more. It felt so painfully obvious, and although Kevin was absolutely certain of his feelings, he was still so unsure. Maybe this trip really would have been more beneficial to him finding himself if he had never met Connor. 

And as always, it felt as though Connor could read his mind as he placed a soft hand on Kevin’s thigh and said, “What are you trying to say?” 

And Kevin couldn’t stop the words from spilling out but managed to alter them slightly to a safer option. “I really like you.” 

Connor’s eyes widened – undramatically – and then he laughed quietly, almost making Kevin think he didn’t believe him. “Well, you’d better.” 

“No, I mean.” He turned, pulling his right leg up, and tucked it under himself so he could properly face Connor, using the brief moment this required to consider his words. “I really… really like you, Connor. I haven’t felt this way before. For anyone.” 

The silence he was met by was only bearable because of the way Connor looked absolutely stumped. Not in the surprised way he had when Kevin had brought up smoking, either. No, this was different. _This_ was speechless, this was tongue-tied, this was I-don’t-know-if-I-believe-you. 

He watched Connor – the way his lips twitched, the way his eyes went back and forth between Kevin’s right and left, the way his eyelashes almost trembled – for a short moment before realizing he probably wasn’t getting an answer. So, instead, he asked, “Have you?” and Connor’s eyes flicked down to watch his lips move and remained there even after he stopped talking. 

“No,” he said, unmoving. Kevin didn’t know if he meant no as in _I don’t feel the same way_ or no as in _I’ve never felt this way about anyone else_ , and the excruciating pause Connor thought necessary just then felt like an eternity. But then his lips parted and in a voice so quiet, he said, “I’ve felt things before but… not of this magnitude,” and all Kevin could think of was _I am large, I contain multitudes_ scribbled in cursive as he leaned forward, searching for Connor’s eyes and silently asking if he could close the space between them entirely. 

With a nod, Connor met him halfway and Kevin could swear it was more, more, more. 

After Kevin wasn’t sure how many hours, he woke up again. Cold sweats. Heavy breathing. Nightmare. 

It took him a second to remember where he was, and when he turned, he found the other side of the bed – as though a twin had sides – was empty. His first instinct was to panic, which was not very helpful in his current state of mind, but as he looked back to the unmade space where Connor had laid, he spotted a piece of paper on the nightstand. 

_Couldn’t sleep. On the roof._  


_C_

And before he even registered leaving the bed, he was pushing open the door to the rooftop terrace, dressed in a pair of Connor’s sweatpants and his t-shirt. Thankfully the summer air was warm enough to keep him from shivering. 

“Hey.” 

Connor jumped, dropping the cigarette in hand and staring at it for a second before crushing it under his shoe. “You weren’t supposed to wake up,” he said, looking bashful, if Kevin’s eyes weren’t deceiving him. “You weren’t supposed to see… _that_.” He gestured to the smushed pile of paper and ash on the cement. 

“I already told you,” Kevin said, walking closer. “I don’t judge.” 

Connor smiled, tilting his head back and looking up. “We don’t get skies like these very often,” he said. “What with all the air pollution we probably won’t be able to see the stars in a few decades.” 

Kevin watched him as he spoke. Then as he continued staring up above, seeming almost mesmerized by what he saw. Kevin felt the same way. 

After a minute or so, Connor must have noticed Kevin’s eyes or wondered why he wasn’t saying anything, and turned his head back toward him, sporting a seemingly amused expression. “And yet you’re wasting this stellar opportunity by staring at me.” 

“I’m already seeing stars.” Kevin couldn’t help himself, okay. The moonlight hit Connor’s eyes just the right way that made those silver specks sparkle with such vivacity that it set Kevin’s head spinning. The mental image of stars circling the head of a cartoon character who just got knocked out popped up in his mind, making him laugh quietly which, in turn, made Connor smile at him, probably assuming he realized just how corny that sounded. 

Instead of answering, Connor got on the floor, leaning back until he was lying flat against the roof, one hand outstretched toward Kevin as he said, “Come on. Lie down.” 

Kevin wrinkled his nose. “It’s dirty.” 

Connor scoffed. Or laughed. It was hard to tell. “Don’t be such a baby, just—” 

And Kevin didn’t get a chance to argue before he was pulled down to Connor’s level, a chaste kiss planted on his hand before Connor laced their fingers together and rested them on his chest. 

“See that one, the one that looks like a W?” Connor pointed to the sky. “It’s called Cassiopeia, and it’s been my favorite constellation for as long as I can remember,” 

Kevin still felt more inclined to watch Connor and the way his eyes twinkled, the way his hair would fall in his face, and the way he blew the locks off his forehead when lying down like this. But he didn’t need another telling-off, and so he kept his eyes fixed on the constellation Connor had shown him, and asked, “Why?” 

Connor let out a laugh that sounded like fucking gospel to Kevin. “Ironically, I can’t remember,” he said. Kevin could feel his heartbeat with his hand. “But every night I look up at the sky and see those five stars, I know that no matter where I am, I’ll be okay.” 

Why that hit so close to home, Kevin had no idea. But he didn’t know how to answer, how to tell Connor that he felt something very similar every time he looked at him. 

“What’s yours?” Connor asked when he got no response, not tearing his eyes from the sky for even a second, but the steady rhythm of his heart was an anchor Kevin could hold on to for now. Forever. 

“I know nothing about stars, Connor.” 

Connor laughed. “Well, okay.” He lifted their hands, still holding on to Kevin’s as he pointed back at the sky, not too far from Cassiopeia. “Look, there. The brightest one. You must recognize that one.” 

Kevin squinted as though that would help him see better but spotted the star Connor was talking about rather quickly anyway. It was brighter. Not by much, but it certainly stood out. 

“Is it the north star?” 

Connor dropped their hands to his chest again, accidentally poking his elbow in Kevin’s ribs in the process. “See, you know things.” Or maybe not so accidentally. 

Kevin snorted. “That’s only because it was in the bible,” he said, rolling his eyes at himself. Connor turned his head, eyes wide with what looked like confusion, and Kevin felt his eyebrows knit slightly as he said, “Matthew?” 

Realization washed over Connor’s face like a tidal wave, and he broke out in laughter before Kevin could even blink. “That was the star of Bethlehem, Kevin.” 

“Great.” Kevin pushed his head further into the cement, as though he could sink through it, which only resulted in a dull ache right above his neck. “So I’m wrong again.” 

“Hey,” Connor said, rolling over on his side as he brought Kevin’s hands to his lips again. “So you don’t know your cults. Or your stars. Or your stars _in_ cults.” Kevin laughed as Connor added, “That’s okay,” and by god, if he didn’t believe him. 

Kevin rolled over, too, so they were facing each other, hands still entwined and eyes locked. There were galaxies trapped in the blue of Connor’s, and stars strewn across his skin in golden freckles. Kevin knew why they were called heavenly bodies, but he never fully understood the meaning until now. 

There were so many things he wanted to say. So many things he was afraid of saying. So many things he hoped Connor would say back, and a very acute awareness that he might not. And it really wasn’t even just that, there was so much more. He wanted to know Connor, the way his mind worked, every little tic, every habit, every bad memory, every good memory, his dreams, his hopes, his fears. Everything. God, he was gone for this person and they hadn’t even known each other for a full month yet. 

Pulling him out of his thoughts, Connor asked, “Have you ever heard the story about Echo?” 

Kevin shook his head, and when realizing that might not exactly translate considering one of his cheeks was pressed to the ground, he said, “No. Tell me?” 

“There’s this old, Latin poem about Echo, a nymph, who was cursed by Juno, a goddess, to only ever speak the most recent words spoken by others.” 

“Like an echo?” 

“Yeah.” Connor smiled. “They weren’t too creative with names back then.” 

Kevin laughed through his nose, using their enlaced hands to nudge Connor, hoping it conveyed that he should go on. 

And Connor continued, “A while after the curse, she falls in love with Narcissus.” He paused. “Do you know who that is?” 

“Is he the god who fell in love with his own reflection?” 

“Almost. He wasn’t a god. He was mortal, a hunter.” Connor’s eyes slid out of focus, landing somewhere above the side of Kevin’s face which gave Kevin the golden opportunity to explore his eyes as Connor talked. “One day, Echo sees him in the woods, and she falls in love instantly. But she can’t tell him, obviously with the curse, until Narcissus calls out _is anyone there?_ and Echo repeats his words. So, Narcissus says _come here_ and, once again, hears the same thing repeated back to him. So he assumes the other person is running away and calls out again, saying _this way, we must come together_ , which Echo takes as a declaration of love and rushes to meet him.” He paused again, a small crease appearing between his eyebrows. “Only, Narcissus wasn’t in love. On the contrary, he was appalled, and rejects her, and yet, Echo’s love for him only grows.” 

Kevin watched – listened – in silence, not certain where the story ended and afraid of cutting in. But something changed in Connor’s eyes as he, too, fell silent for a moment, his lips parted but not forming any words. Should he say something? Should he laugh? Make a joke about their names again? He didn’t know what Connor wanted to say, why he decided to tell Kevin about this, of all things. 

Before his thoughts could spiral too much, Connor seemed to come back to earth. “She fell in love with someone who could never love her back,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, and Kevin could swear his eyes went blank and glassy. “And after his death, she began to waste away as well. Her beauty faded, her skin shriveled, her bones turned to stone. All that remained was the sound of her voice.” 

Okay, so not a time to joke. This was serious, Kevin could tell, but he couldn’t figure out _what it meant_. 

“I love the Church, Kevin,” Connor said then, and something clicked. “I love God.” 

This was Connor bearing his soul – _finally_ – and Kevin hated himself for not instantly finding the right words. He hugged Connor’s hand tighter and heard him inhale sharply through his nose. He needed words. Now. Earth to Kevin, come the fuck in. 

“God can love you,” he said eventually, cringing at how wrong it sounded. “He _does_ love you.” 

Kevin expected him to argue that Kevin wouldn’t know that since he lost his faith, but instead he just said, “My family,” and that was far, far worse. Connor’s eyes remained distant, yet there was a presence in them, he was still there, likely as aware as Kevin that one blink would send a tear down his cheek, so he kept them open. “Sometimes it’s easier to just…” he trailed off, and Kevin abandoned his hand so he could cup his face instead. “Fade.” 

“No, you’re not— Connor, look at me.” Connor’s eyes came back into focus, and the sudden movement triggered a blink and then a single tear escaped his right eye. Kevin made quick work of wiping it away, carefully brushing his thumb against freckled skin, so taken aback and relieved and devastated, all at once. He had wanted Connor to let him in, to show him what existed below the surface, below the facade he kept up, and it felt as though, in this instant, layers and layers fell away at the speed of light, too fast for Kevin to even register. “That’s a story, Connor, it isn’t you. They can love you, and if they don’t then that’s their loss.” 

Connor closed his eyes, looking so vulnerable, so small. Sometimes Kevin forgot how young he actually was. Both of them, barely more than teenagers and already so royally fucked up. God bless religion. 

“But faith is subjective, remember?” he tried. Providing comfort had never been his forte, and this required more than comfort, more than he felt he had to offer, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try. “You believe in your God. Fuck what anyone else says about him; he is whatever you make him, Connor. That’s…” he trailed off, not necessarily excited to disclose his own thoughts on the matter, but if Connor could, then Kevin owed him the same. “When I believed… God never hated anyone. That never seemed plausible to me, that he’d create people and then just abandon them when they need him most. No one can tell you who God is. That’s for you to decide.” 

He didn’t remember when, but he had pulled Connor closer, cradled him in his arms, Connor’s face tucked against his chest. He could feel a wet spot through the fabric of his t-shirt and could hear the silent sniffs as Connor cried beside him. 

Kevin hadn’t felt this helpless in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was this chap just me shitting on religion? Maybe. Was this me turning my agnostic ass momentarily religious? Lmao ew. Kidding. Kind of. But I do believe religion and faith alike are what you make it. Don't let anyone else define it, you do you, anything is possible, love wins, hooray huzzah. 
> 
> Again, sorry I literally fell off the face of the earth there for a while. And sorry if I do again. Just know this fic is very much still alive and I have most of it mapped out, even though this chap threw me for a fucking loop. If my writing seems different it's probably bc it is, lmao. I've read a lot this fall (thanks bb) and I get inspired by literally everything so I'm sure it probably shows. And if you feel like the characters contradict themselves a bit in this chapter, remember, _I am large, I contain multitudes_ which may or may not be my new motto.
> 
> Anyway, it's almost five am now and I should be up at nine tomorrow so, yeah. I hope you liked the chapter, and if you did, a comment is always greatly appreciated! Fun fact about me: I pretty much survive on candy and validation. 
> 
> Stay safe y'all, and look at the stars tonight. If you can see them, that is. They're kinda cute.


	6. though i've gone to greater lengths to recreate the spark, it never comes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not dead, surprisingly. And I just want to say sorry for how ridiculously long it took me to respond to the comments on the last chap. I'll be a bit faster this time, promise. And know that I read them all as soon as I get that sweet, sweet email notification, it just takes brain power I haven't had in the past weeks to actually go on ao3 and reply. 
> 
> That said, this chap is a liiil bit different in that there's a flashback that isn't a letter. Gasp, I know. Please let me know if it felt weird or out of place, though, so I'll know to avoid more scenes like that in the future. And if you liked it, I'd love to know that too lmao. Also, as I edited this I realized just how hard I went on the italics in that part specifically, so beware. 
> 
> I think that's all. Thank you all so much for your kind words and support for this fic. It really does mean the world and then some. 
> 
> Okay, now I'm done. Enjoy!

_Rome, Italy_  
_Ten years ago_

“Well, at first I was afraid.” Connor was watching the waves again, much like he usually was when they were sat by the river. His eyes shone bluer than the calm water and the sky combined. “I was petrified.” 

Kevin had moved out of the hotel about a week ago. Mostly thanks to Connor’s suggestion he stop throwing money at a room he barely ever stayed in, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it for quite some time now. 

“I just kept thinking that… I could never live without him by my side, you know?” Connor shot him a glance as he spoke the last two words, a twinkle in his eyes told Kevin he didn’t need to dig too deep for some dark, underlying meaning. This was banter, a bit, and it made Kevin smile through his suspicion. “But then I spent so many nights thinking how he did me wrong.” 

Kevin would also be lying if he said the thought of Connor with someone else—even before they knew about each other’s existence—made his skin crawl. A phantom itch on his wrists, blood boiling in the veins beneath. He never was the jealous type, but then again, he had never really had a reason to be jealous before, and if he were honest, he didn’t have one now, either. Connor wasn’t his. They weren’t a couple, at least not in so many words. They were just two dudes having fun in Europe, even though it felt like so much more. 

So, he nodded Connor along as he told him about his ex; some guy he had met when he was still on his mission. Kevin couldn’t help but wonder if this—hopefully brief—romance was part of the reason he left so soon. 

“I guess I grew strong.” Connor shrugged, turning his attention back to the water. “And I just learned how to get along, anyway.” 

A smile played on his lips when he shot Kevin another glance, and Kevin couldn’t help but laugh. “So, what you’re saying is… you’re back?” The left corner of Connor’s mouth twitched, turning his smile into a wry grin. “From outer space?” 

A small laugh bubbled off Connor’s lips before he arched a brow at Kevin. “He knows his Gloria Gaynor.” Connor clapped his hands almost sarcastically, looking far too pleased with himself. “What are you, the materialization of my wildest dreams?” 

Kevin scoffed, though endearingly, of course. “Your wildest dream is someone who remembers the lyrics to one of the most famous pop songs in history?” 

Connor shrugged again, this time with less effort. “I am but a simple man.” He leaned back, holding himself up with his hands planted firmly on the grass. “Besides, if you know your Glorias, we might just be meant to be.” 

“You’re insinuating there are more?” 

“And he fails the second test.” 

“Hey.” Kevin shoved at the closest of Connor’s arms, nudging his elbow bent so he fell all the way back against the grass with a laugh before he heaved himself up again, this time leaning on his elbows in an infuriatingly laidback manner. He shot Kevin an easy grin like it was the simplest thing in the world, and Kevin would be lying if he said it didn’t make his knees turn to jelly despite sitting down. “Who, then?” 

“Famous Glorias?” Kevin raised his eyebrows in a duh-doy way. “Well, apart from Gaynor, one’s a feminist icon”—Connor stifled a laugh, eyes twinkling—“the other’s a journalist.” 

He laughed as though he’d just made a joke. Whether he had or not, Kevin had absolutely no fucking clue. “Well, that explains it.” 

“Oh, come on. You’re telling me you’ve never heard of Gloria Steinem?” Kevin frowned. The name did sound somewhat familiar. “Or Estefan?” Connor stared as Kevin shook his head. “ _Conga_? _Get on your feet_?” 

Kevin cocked an eyebrow. “Right now?” 

Connor rolled his eyes with a snort. “You are the human equivalent of a golden retriever, you know that, right?” 

“You’re just saying that ‘cause I’m a Leo.” 

“Well, doy.” 

It wasn’t as hot out today, mostly due to the wind that kept blowing Kevin’s hair in his eyes. What was even more irritating, however, was the fact that Connor’s hair, though caught in the very same gust, looked absolutely breathtaking as the blondish locks danced around his head. The sun was as high as it possibly could and shone down in scorching beams that made the ginger hues in his hair glow just faintly redder. 

Kevin looked away before Connor caught him staring. Which might have seemed redundant considering Connor’s eyes were closed, but he couldn’t risk it. “I still don’t know what that means, you know.” 

“Well, if you would let me read your chart, I could tell you.” 

Kevin rolled his eyes, mostly for show, to be completely honest. “I don’t believe in astrology, Connor.” 

Connor cracked one eye open, scrunching the other up in the process until it looked like he was giving Kevin the longest reverse wink, and Kevin couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, and that’s your funeral.” 

With a scoff, Kevin shoved at his shoulder again. Not hard enough to make his elbows cave, but with enough force to make him open both eyes and meet Kevin’s. He tried to tell him _let’s go back to your place and do that thing you showed me last night_ without words and for a second, he thought Connor got the message because his eyes dropped to watch as Kevin parted his lips, but then he turned away, his gaze level with the waves in front of them again. So, Kevin sighed as he followed suit, leaning back on his hands and crossing his legs at the ankles. 

“Astrology, fate, God,” Kevin found himself saying, thankfully with a hint of humor. “You believe in too many things.” 

Connor snorted. “And you believe none. Isn’t that boring?” 

Kevin shrugged, noticing Connor’s gaze on him through his peripheral, but the shift in the conversation had apparently emptied his confidence as he couldn’t tear his eyes from a particularly interesting eddy on the other side of the river. “I believe in science.” 

Connor snorted louder, on the verge of sounding entirely forced. “Scientology, you mean?” 

“No, I—” His body couldn’t decide between staring daggers and rolling his eyes, and so he ended up doing both in some weird merry-go-round glare that undoubtedly looked twice as awkward as it felt. “I wasn’t paying attention. If some nice guy came up to you and handed you a free book, I doubt you would’ve noticed either.” 

Connor hummed beside him, so blatantly amused that it made Kevin want to punch him. 

With his lips. 

Before he could, though, Connor turned back to the water with a wry smile. “Be less curious about people and more curious about ideas.” 

Kevin watched him for a moment, trying to decipher whatever that meant but kept drawing a blank, his brows pulled together in a bemused, yet suspicious frown. “What?” 

Connor threw him a glance; his eyes twinkled. “Marie Curie.” 

This was the thing with Connor. He would act like a two-dimensional character with fewer traits than there are female Nobel Prize in physics winners, but then he would pull a quote completely out of the blue and say it with the air of someone who _won_ a Nobel Prize in physics. It was like he wanted to be taken for granted. Not that Kevin did, he was far too invested in finding out every little thing about this man, but part of him wondered why. Why Connor’s walls seemed nonexistent yet built so, so high that it would take Kevin weeks to climb. Why he kept his cards so close to his chest, why he’d rather call than raise, always one step ahead yet scared to turn his back on anyone. Why he seemed to push when Kevin wanted to pull, a safe distance between them even when they lay entangled in each other’s arms. 

Connor McKinley was a puzzle; his pieces strewn out haphazardly across the city, each one hidden beneath a crack in the pavement, below the waves of the Tiber, under the leather of a corner booth in some hotel bar. Kevin only had to find the missing ones. 

“How do you know so much?” 

Connor looked at him, and Kevin was once again stunned by just how beautiful he really was. Golden sunlight perfectly accentuating his skin despite it having cold, blue undertones that shouldn’t work this well with warmer colors. But then, Kevin might be biased. 

“I read a lot,” Connor said with a shrug. 

“The closest thing to science you have on your shelves is a book about astrology,” Kevin pointed out. He had spent enough hours alone in his apartment while Connor was at work to know. “I’ve checked all of them.” 

Connor leaned all the way back now, until he was flat against the ground, his hands crossed under his head, eyes closed. That was a good thing. That meant Kevin could stare. 

“My bookshelf does not define me, Kevin.” 

Fair point, but without much else to go on, it was sort of all Kevin had. “Then what does?” 

Connor opened his eyes a crack, squinting up at him. “What?” 

“I’m just trying to understand you, Connor. But it’s proving itself a lot harder than I initially thought.” 

There was a brief twitch in Connor’s brows, whether caused by emotions or the sun in his eyes, Kevin didn’t know. “How so?” 

Kevin closed his eyes, pressing them together in an attempt to visualize his answer, the ways in which Connor continued to boggle his mind with every single detail he learned about him. “Well, you’re the least conforming person I’ve ever met, and yet you believe in God. I mean, you curse and drink coffee and… do other things the Church wouldn’t like, and yet you still call yourself Mormon. You read all the time and you love to learn, and yet you’re working as a waiter in Rome instead of going off to college or something.” He realized his eyes were still closed first then, and cautiously opened them, as though worried Connor had left. He hadn’t. Connor had sat up again, knees bent, and his arms wrapped around them. He was watching Kevin with a look that could mean a thousand things, and, knowing Connor, it probably did. “I just can’t get a grasp on you.” 

There fell a silence just a second shy of becoming uncomfortable before Connor spoke. “Maybe I like it that way.” He shrugged, once again turning his attention back to the river, much like he did when their conversations took a graver turn. “People can’t judge what they don’t know.” 

Kevin opened his mouth to answer but quickly realized he wasn’t sure how to respond, his lips forming words that wouldn’t leave his tongue. He thought for a moment, and Connor let him, seemingly unbothered by both the silence and the stumped expression on Kevin’s face. “I think that’s… I think that’s precisely what prejudice is, though, isn’t it?” Connor didn’t look at him, but Kevin could see the way his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Judging a book by its cover?” 

To his surprise, Connor laughed. “Shit. You’re right.” He shook his head, still smiling. “But in a sense, if people don’t know the real me, are they really judging _me_ or their idea of who I am?” 

He had a point. Kevin didn’t say this, however. 

“I mean, we’ll never truly know anyone but ourselves,” Connor continued. “And in some cases, we don’t even know that.” 

Once again, Kevin wasn’t sure how to answer. He wanted to believe he knew people that weren’t himself, even if those select few did not include Connor yet. But did he, really? He knew his parents. Their names, their lives, what made them tick. He knew they would be distraught by his choice to leave the Church, that they would tell him off, call it a mistake, cry. But he didn’t know _why_. Why they prioritized faith over their own flesh and blood. Why his father could hardly look him in the eye after he told them. Why his mother held on to him so tightly before he left for Rome, as though afraid he wouldn’t come back. And he knew Jack like the back of his own hand. Growing up together, they had always been close, but in hindsight, he didn’t know what happened when they suddenly grew apart. Was it age? Kevin had a few years on him, but it hardly made a difference. One day they had been as thick as thieves and the next, one of them decided that wasn’t the case anymore. 

But did that mean he didn’t know them? Surely, you can’t possibly learn everything about someone, but that didn’t mean you can’t learn anything. If the goal was to know people as well as your own heartbeat, was there even a point in trying? 

“Here, I’ll show you what I mean. Turn around.” Connor moved beside him, pulling on Kevin’s arm until they were sat facing the sidewalk instead of the river. The proximity made goosebumps appear across Kevin’s skin, but he ignored it as best he could when Connor raised his hand and pointed toward the street. “Take that man, for instance. What do you see?” 

Kevin frowned. He was positively certain there was more than one man in front of them. “Who?” 

“The suit.” He pointed—not as discreetly as Kevin would have preferred—straight ahead at a man stood across the street, phone to his ear. “Three o’clock.” 

“Three o’clock means to the right.” 

“Whatever, six o’clock.” 

“That’s behind—” 

“Kevin.” Connor dropped his hand, letting it land on Kevin’s where it rested on the ground. “Humor me. Please?” 

Kevin took a breath, not too amused by this game. It was enough to realize he would never truly know Connor, in his own words, but did he really need a lecture on _why_ , too? “I don’t know what you want me to say. He’s just a guy in a suit.” 

“Yeah, but what do you _see_?” Connor pressed, his hand still warm against Kevin’s skin. “What’s the first thing that comes to mind?” 

“The first thing?” Kevin squinted, trying to get a read on the man. He wore a gray suit, nice shoes, his hair expertly styled, not a single strand out of place. First thing? “Rich.” 

“Because of the suit?” Connor’s hand disappeared from Kevin’s, and he hated to admit just how badly he wanted it back. 

But he didn’t want to seem clingy, so he said, “Yeah.” 

“And what about that woman?” Connor pointed slightly to the left of the man at a woman sat on the corner, dressed in torn clothes, holding a sign he couldn’t read from this distance. 

“The beggar?” 

An amused breath left Connor at that, as he let his hand fall again. On his own lap, this time. Kevin was only slightly disappointed. “I don’t think we’re supposed to call them beggars, but you see what I mean?” Kevin was still watching the woman, feeling instantly regretful of his words. “We take one look at people and immediately think we know them. I don’t want to be that easy.” Connor hadn’t moved his gaze either, Kevin realized when he turned back to face him. His brows were only slightly furrowed, not enough to make him look especially troubled, but enough to make Kevin want the ability to read minds. “And I doubt that any of these people are.” 

“Am I?” The words had left his tongue before he could stop them, but he found he didn’t mind when Connor finally turned to meet his eyes again. 

“No.” He shook his head, though the motion was barely perceptible, and he held Kevin’s gaze as he said, “I think you’re a fucking mystery, Kevin Price.” 

And the problem was, he didn’t want to be.

* * *

_Seattle, Washington_  
_Three years ago_

_I met someone._

_A friend at work set us up and it started rocky, but once I allowed myself to try, things went well. Truly. I should be happy. Content, at the very least. But I’m not. We’ve been out a dozen times and he’s spent countless more nights in my apartment, and it’s nice, I guess, but it isn’t enough. You made me selfish, Connor. Fuck you for that, by the way. I didn’t use to have standards, which, granted, isn’t the best approach to dating but it beat having standards that are this fucking unattainable. You weren’t even that great, you know. So don’t take any credit for ruining my life._

_~~Sorry, but~~ it’s true. _

_I’m sure you don’t even think about me. I’m sure you moved on the second I got on that plane, or else you would have fought for me. You should have. I would have stayed._

_I will forget you, someday, if it’s the last thing I’ll do. In the meantime, I’m going to put on a happy face and pretend to be satisfied with this guy, this really great fucking guy that isn’t you. I deserve that; he doesn’t. He’ll get over me._

_Seems to be a recurrent theme._

* * *

_Rome, Italy_  
_Ten years ago_

“I will. Okay. Love you, too.” 

Kevin had just hung up his phone when Connor appeared at his side, back from his shift at Otello. He smiled as he crossed the room—in one step—to unload the groceries he’d picked up on his way home. “Who were you talking to?” 

Kevin hesitated. Something about it felt wrong, out of place. Like the conversation that followed would somehow be too real, despite how many times they had tackled arguably more serious issues. He glanced down at his phone again. The only person he had talked to since getting here was his brother, once, and occasionally Connor if they felt too lazy to text, and he didn’t know what to tell him because, in truth, he was struggling to make sense of it himself. 

“My mom,” he finally managed, which instantly caught Connor’s attention. 

“Oh, shit.” He turned around, one arm still in the freezer. “What’d she say?” 

“I, um.” Kevin paused, needing a minute to gather his thoughts before he said anything. Connor watched patiently as he continued shoving groceries on shelves without looking. It nearly made Kevin laugh, which thankfully took some of the edge off the tension he was feeling. “Okay, so I didn’t tell you this, but I applied to a few colleges before I left.” Connor’s eyes widened, lips parting as though to speak, but he quickly gestured for Kevin to continue instead. “They were all late applications since I was supposed to be on my mission this year, so I didn’t really expect to get in, but, um.” 

“You got in?” Kevin nodded. “Where?” 

“BYU and Utah State.” They weren’t his top choices, but he knew he would have to compromise for his parents to help him with tuition. 

Connor smiled. “Kevin, that’s great.” 

“Yeah, I mean, I’m not that surprised about BYU. I’m sure my parents pulled a few strings to get me accepted there, but Utah State? That’s a real college. That’s a real, non-Mormon college with real, normal, non-Mormon people. There’s no honor code.” He frowned. “At least I don’t think there is.” 

Connor laughed, neatly folding the paper bag before placing it in the gap between the two cupboards above the stove. Kevin had asked the first time he pulled a bag from that very spot, but Connor had just shrugged and chalked it up to poor design. “That’s amazing.” He crossed the room to where Kevin was sat—in two steps—and placed a quick peck on his lips before falling flat on his back on the bed, a heavy sigh escaping him as he did so. “I’m so happy for you.” 

Kevin half-turned on the bed, lifting one leg up so he could lean against the wall. “Thanks.” 

Connor’s eyes were already closed as he spoke again. “So, I’m guessing you’re leaning towards Utah State?” 

Kevin almost laughed. There was no universe in which he would willingly attend BYU. “Yeah.” 

“And that’s in… Salt Lake?” 

“Logan,” Kevin corrected. “About eighty miles north of Salt Lake.” 

Connor laughed quietly, though his eyes remained shut which, again, was a good thing. And Kevin took the opportunity to watch him in all his calm, serene beauty as his chest shook with laughter. “I’d say that’s a safe distance from all the Mormons.” 

Kevin snorted. “Oh, you can’t escape LDS in Utah.” He just about managed to turn away as Connor’s eyes fluttered open, not entirely sure he hadn’t been caught staring. So, he continued to talk to the window across the room. “But I don’t think my parents would’ve been cool with me going out of state, so.” 

“Well, at least you’ll be a few hours from home.” 

“If I’ll be staying on campus.” Connor had rolled over on his side next to him, but Kevin kept his eyes fixed on the concrete wall outside the window. “But I mean, I don’t have to college right away or anything. I’m only nineteen, it’s not like I don’t have time.” 

Connor let out a sound that landed somewhere between a laugh and a scoff, his tone seemingly surprised. “You should go, are you kidding?” he asked, propping himself up on one elbow. Kevin was watching him through his peripheral view. “It’s a great opportunity, and you’ll have a degree by, what, twenty-three? Ignore the rhyme.” 

_That’s not the problem_ , he wanted to say. “I guess so,” is what came out. “I have to respond soon, or I’ll lose my spot, but… I told my mom I’d think about it for a while, anyway.” 

He could hear the question hanging in the air, but either Connor thought it better not to ask, or he didn’t care enough to. Kevin wasn’t sure which he’d prefer. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go to college. He did. He really, really did, but going to college meant going back to Utah. It meant leaving Rome. It meant leaving Connor. 

And he simply wasn’t ready for that. 

“Maybe I’m not ready for college,” he said, voice quiet. So fucking quiet. “Maybe I’m not ready to leave.” 

He cringed as soon as the words left his throat, pressing his eyes together as he felt the tension shift between them. Connor had been vulnerable with him that night on the roof, surely, Kevin could be too. And he wanted to. He really, really wanted to, but he was so scared to mess things up one way or another. So terrified that his actions would lead to Connor ending whatever it was they had before Kevin even had to go back. 

“Kevin…” 

Connor’s voice echoed the quiet air Kevin had spoken with only moments before, and though he kept his eyes closed, he could see the pity on Connor’s face. The crease in his forehead, lips slightly parted and laced with unquestioned understanding although turned down at the corners. Kevin didn’t like pity. At least not when it was directed at him and certainly not after he had practically admitted he would push college back a year to stay here, in a shitty, two-by-four apartment in a country where he didn’t even speak the language. 

“Never mind. I don’t know why I said that.” 

He expected Connor to laugh or brush him aside, to turn the conversation light and easy again, to kiss him until he let go of his self-consciousness. So, when he felt Connor’s hand around his wrist, he expected a pair of lips to follow. 

It took him just a beat too long to realize they wouldn’t. 

When he opened his eyes again, Connor was watching him with cautious eyes, his hand now entwined with Kevin’s, head resting on the palm of his other. It didn’t look like pity. Then again, Kevin could be wrong. Lord knows it’s happened before. 

“Come here.” Connor tugged at him gently, expression unchanged. 

Kevin felt utterly stupid asking, but his inability to keep his mouth shut was a runaway train, speeding off the rails despite desperately pulling the brakes. “Why?” 

And then Connor smiled, but it wasn’t out of pity, or annoyance, or even teasing. It looked almost genuine. Kind. “Because I want to hug you for as long as I physically can.” 

“Hug?” 

And then Connor laughed, and things were okay. The train found its way back onto the rails without a single casualty. The awkward tension drifted away as though Kevin had only imagined it all. The hand intertwined with his own rubbed soothing circles over his knuckles and tugged him, again, gently down until Kevin’s head was cradled against Connor’s chest, pulling him closer, closer. “Yes, hug,” he said, the words soft against Kevin’s forehead. “Get your mind out of that gutter.”

* * *

_Seattle, Washington_  
_Four years ago_

Kevin sighed into his coffee cup before downing what was left in one swig. His caffeine addiction had emerged during college despite his many efforts to abstain; lattes still reminded him far too much of something he wanted to forget. That’s why he took it black these days, no milk, no sugar, no nothing. He couldn’t sugarcoat that pain. Couldn’t, wouldn’t, whatever. 

Colored-in papers littered his desk even though they were standardized tests. That was probably on him for giving the kids crayons to fill them out with, but he quite enjoyed the drawings in the margins, trying to deduce whether the purple dots were the answers and the yellow ones decorative or the other way around. 

“Knock knock.” Two raps on the already-open door followed. Kevin didn’t have to look up to see who was interrupting his lunch. 

“Hey, Arn.” 

Arnold, being Arnold, let himself in without asking, but Kevin didn’t mind as much. He’d grown rather close to his colleague after that time they got stuck together on a field trip and Arnold more or less decided they were fast friends. Kevin wouldn’t deny that claim, although Arnold’s constant chatter doubtlessly took some getting used to. 

“Busy lunch?” He took a seat at the nearest table, and when Kevin finally glanced up, he noticed the extra plastic-wrapped sandwich in his hand. Kevin’s habit of skipping lunch to work was not a popular one in Arnold’s book, so he wasn’t all that surprised when he tossed the healthier-looking bread onto Kevin’s desk. “Got you an extra.” 

Kevin smiled, a slight prick of guilt briefly weighing down his chest. “Thanks.” Arnold shrugged dismissively and turned his gaze to the papers scattered in front of Kevin. “I’ve got, like, fifty tests to grade, so, yeah. Busy.” 

It hit him just as the words left his mouth that that possibly sounded like _please leave me alone_ , but thankfully, Arnold never was that great with social cues. “You know, I didn’t have you pegged for a standardized exams kind of guy.” There was a brief pause where the corner of Arnold’s mouth twitched upward which could only mean one thing. A bad joke was coming in three. Two. “Then again, I didn’t have you pegged as someone who likes getting pegged.” 

Replace bad with terrible and Kevin fucking guessed it. 

“Oh my god, Arnold, that’s— First of all, it’s not called that if no… toys are involved, and second, need I remind you we are in a _school_?” 

“It was right there! I couldn’t not say it.” Arnold waved his hand dismissively as he took a bite of his sandwich. “Besides, the kids are all outside.” 

Kevin sighed but let it slide. He made a mental note to get Arnold a gift card to a crash course in comedy for his birthday. “Well, I’d prefer to give the kids something more creative to do, but Fuller’s been on my ass lately to—oh, _come on_ , Arn. Get your mind out of that—” 

He stopped short, a phantom pain sweeping across his chest. Something rang so very familiar. _Those words_. 

“You okay, buddy?” 

Thankfully, Arnold’s words pulled him back from the jaws of yesteryear. He really needed to stop romanticizing heartbreak. It was just a bad memory. Just a rose-tinted image of a forgotten era, silver moonbeams meeting golden sunlight in two very blue, very vivid eyes that haunted his— _Stop_. 

“Yeah. Fine.” He cleared his throat and mind in one fell swoop. “Like I said, Fuller’s been on me to do things a bit more by the book, so. That means standardized tests.” 

“Ah, yeah, he told me I couldn’t do experiments with the kids unless getting the green light from him.” Arnold took another bite. “I’m a science teacher, what am I supposed to do? Have them read books? No offense.” 

Kevin rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but laugh. “To be fair, that’s probably because we had to evacuate the school after your last experiment.” 

“We were making ice cream!” 

“Yeah, with gas.” 

“No. With liquid nitrogen.” 

“Oh, and that’s safe, I presume?” 

“Well… Not if you get it directly on your skin—but I took safety precautions! The kids were all outside, it was just me in the lab.” Arnold paused; Kevin waited. “But the ventilation was on. And I forgot to open a window, so…” 

Kevin let the silence hang for a few more seconds before he clicked his tongue, and said, “Do you need me to draw a map to where you went wrong, or can you find the way yourself?” 

Arnold cackled. If there was something Kevin envied him for, it was his ability to laugh at himself. To not take himself so seriously all the goddamned time. It was sort of admirable, though his lack of finesse often outweighed his easygoing air. 

“Why aren’t you eating in the teachers’ lounge, anyway?” 

Arnold shrugged. “Nagasaki’s sick.” 

“You really ought to learn the name of the woman you’re trying to woo, Arnold.” 

“I do know her name,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “She likes it.” 

Kevin raised his eyebrows, fighting the urge to contest that fact. “Of course. So, what’s up?” Arnold looked almost surprised by his decision to concede. “I mean, you’ve already wasted the first half of my lunch, you might as well have the second, too.” 

It should come as a shock to no one, least of all Kevin, that hearing those words would trigger Arnold’s victory dance. Which really was less of a dance and more of a shoulder-shake, but Kevin could go a little easier on him. It wasn’t his fault Kevin was constantly a hop, skip, and a jump away from a bad mood, after all. 

“ _Sooo_.” When Kevin looked back up from the paper he’d been working on, Arnold’s eyebrows had joined his shoulders, and the only word Kevin could find to describe him was cheeky, which would cause an avalanche of lewd jokes should he say out loud. “How are things going with you and Cory?” 

Kevin couldn’t help but sigh. “Look, it was a nice date, but I’m… not ready for anything serious right now.” 

_Or ever_. 

“You’re the biggest romantic I know, that makes no sense.” Arnold threw his hands in the air and Kevin didn’t miss the piece of lettuce that parachuted off his sandwich when they reached their apex, landing on the floor in front of Kevin’s desk. “That’s like saying ‘Mr. Gray _won’t_ see you now’ even though he’s standing right there.” 

“Did…” Kevin had to close his eyes to process that sentence because _what_. “Did you just compare my love life to Fifty Shades of Gray?” 

“No. I compared your lack of a love life to Fifty Shades of Gray,” Arnold pointed out, his mouth full. “Come on, Kev. You said you’d give him a chance. He even shares the first two letters with—” 

“ _Alright_ , fine. I’ll text him after work. Happy?” 

Arnold gave him an apologetic look, head tilted slightly to the side like a puppy. “Not unless you are, buddy,” he said, his voice instantly cautious. “I just thought a boyfriend could cheer you up a bit.” 

Kevin sighed again, though not trying to make a point of it this time. It had been nice of him to set them up, and Kevin really wanted there to a spark. Hell, he’d settle for a flicker. But as far as romance went, he hadn’t seen a flame in almost six years. And, sure, maybe that was on him. Maybe if he could just let go of Rome, Cory might ignite something within him. There could be fire. He knew there could. 

The problem was, he didn’t want just any fire. He wanted the fire of golden freckles. Of red hues in blonde hair. Of burning skin and lingering touches. He wanted a fire that should have died the moment he got on that plane, and yet here he was, sifting through the ashes for something to hold on to. 

“Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he managed after a moment, forcing a smile he hoped Arnold wouldn’t see right through. “We’ve only been on one date.” 

He didn’t, if the return of the victory dance was anything to go by. “A very _goooood_ date,” he singsang. “I heard you guys frenched.” 

Kevin let out an amused scoff. “From who, a fourth-grader?” 

Arnold completely ignored his comment. “Did ya give him the whole cake or just a slice?” 

“First of all, gross.” Arnold cackled. “Secondly, that is none of your business.” 

“So, you did give him the cake?” Arnold wiggled in his seat. “Did he like the frosting?” 

Kevin opened his mouth to answer only to promptly shut it again. He could not even begin to understand what that was supposed to be an innuendo of, and quite frankly, he didn’t need to know. “Okay. Just… humor me.” He leaned forward on his elbows, much like he did when he had to get stern with the kids. “Where do _you_ think the line goes between friendly conversation and complete invasion of privacy?” 

Arnold’s hand—thankfully not the one holding the sandwich—began to wave dismissively again. “There’s no line when you’re besties, Kev.” 

Kevin couldn’t help but laugh. He was a bit annoyed, yes, but he had to give it to him; Arnold took friendship more seriously than most of their students. “Well, there should be,” he said regardless. If not a line, then at least some boundaries. “And look, I just don’t have time for a relationship right now, okay?” I have work. And my book. And—” 

“You already wrote a book,” Arnold spoke through a mouthful of bread. 

He didn’t know how it was possible for Arnold—in this conversation alone—to say so many things that would give him whiplash from all the double-takes he had to do. “Yeah… And now I’m writing a second.” Arnold cocked an eyebrow, making Kevin narrow his eyes in a mix of perplexity and suspicion. “You know most authors don’t stop after one, right?” 

“Oh, come on, Kev. You have time to go on a date every once in a while,” Arnold said. “Besides, he’s an editor, so he could probably get you a really awesome book deal or something.” 

Kevin scoffed. “I am not using the guy I’m sleeping with to get a book deal, Arn, christ.” 

“Aha!” Dear god. “So, you are sleeping with him!” 

“No, I didn’t—” Arnold’s victory dance made a comeback. “I meant hypothetically.” 

Arnold grinned. “Sure, you did.” 

“Arnold, I swear to god if you don’t—” 

“Okay, okay. I’ll lay off,” he conceded, hands held up in surrender as Kevin let out the longest sigh of his life. “But hey, why don’t you guys come out with Naba and me this weekend? No expectations, just to hang.” 

“You’re going out with Naba?” 

“I am.” Arnold smiled and if Kevin thought he had ever seen him proud before, this was entirely next level. “She finally said yes. Because I finally worked up the confidence to ask her.” 

Kevin couldn’t help but laugh at that. He had watched Arnold’s painfully obvious crush grow into total infatuation over the past year, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t rooting for the two. Even though the pairing felt sort of odd, he had noticed Naba would always be the first to laugh at Arnold’s terrible jokes and he had never once seen her roll her eyes at him without smiling. She didn’t seem bothered by his loud character, and Kevin could only hope her more calm disposition might influence Arnold in some ways, too. 

“I don’t know, I don’t want to impose on your first date.” 

“You wouldn’t,” Arnold brushed him off with a shrug. “The more the merrier.” 

On the plus side, going out with Arnold and Naba would mean there would be no awkward silences for Kevin to fill, but on the other hand, he couldn’t get out of it as easily if there were three sets of eyes watching him make up an excuse on sight. And at the same time, he knew Arnold wouldn’t stop trying to push them together if he kept putting it off, so maybe this was both the quickest and least painful way out after all. 

“Fine,” Kevin said, immediately rolling his eyes at Arnold’s cheering. 

“So should I tell Cory the good news or do you want the honors?” 

Kevin pinched the bridge of his nose. This was a terrible decision. “I’ll call him after work.” 

“Great.” Arnold hopped off the table with a grin, their lunch break nearing its end. “Wear something you don’t mind getting stained.” 

Kevin frowned. “I— What?” 

Arnold tossed the plastic wrapper in the trashcan as he made his way to the door. “You might get paint on you.” 

Kevin stared. “Why? What exactly are we doing?” 

Arnold turned as he reached the doorway, smiling broadly. “Paintball!” 

“Paint— _What_? You’re taking Naba to play _paintball_ on your first— And he’s gone. Fan fucking tastic.” Kevin dropped his head in his hands, rubbing at his temples and telling himself this was a good idea. Getting out of his bubble of misery, meeting new people. It was good. Healthy, even. So, then why did it feel like the last thing he wanted to do? 

He knew what he wanted, and Cory the editor was not it. But maybe, if he could take his mind of the person who was for just a moment, it might be worth it to at least try. What did he have left to lose?

* * *

_Rome, Italy_  
_Ten years ago_

“They need your answer today, honey.” His mother’s voice came softly through the phone, soothing in that way only mothers could be. It had surprised him the last time she called, even though she had been more understanding than his dad, they hadn’t left things on great terms. “Your father might be able to hold BYU open for another week, but—” 

“I want to go to Utah State.” The words fell out of his mouth before he could even process them. Perhaps it was the mere thought of attending a university that was owned by the very church he had left a few months prior that made him decide so quickly, or, perhaps, it was due to the much-needed space from his family. He loved them, but their lives were so intrinsically tied to the church and its ancient values that he knew he wouldn’t be able to be true to himself under their roof. 

“Are you sure?” his mother wondered. “That’s quite the commute.” 

“I’ll get a dorm room.” 

The other end fell silent, and Kevin couldn’t help but feel bad. He realized he sounded far too eager to move out, even though his parents had been very excited about that fact once before. Only, that time, he was moving out to go on his mission. College didn’t warrant the same enthusiasm, it seemed. 

“Okay,” his mother said after a few moments, sounding not quite convinced, but somewhat emphatic. It was always something. “Okay. I’ll let them know. If you change your mind, just call. Your father can work something out.” 

He wanted to tell her that wouldn’t be necessary, but settled for a simple, “Thanks, mom.” 

Neither of them bothered with small talk beyond that point. It wasn’t as though he could tell her about Connor, anyway, and it would be difficult enough to explain why he had stayed in Rome so long when his intention was to backpack through other parts of Europe as well. And his mother wasn’t too keen to hear about his adventures if they didn’t end with “and now I’m ready to come home and rejoin the Church”. So, naturally, they said their goodbyes, and the world didn’t stop spinning. Barely even slowed down, really. 

It was decided, then. He was going to college this fall, whether he wanted to leave Italy or not. He didn’t. He really, really didn’t, but there was hope, still. Maybe Connor would come with him. Maybe he could apply for Utah State next semester, or whichever university he wanted to go to. Maybe, at least, they would still live in the same country. 

He made his way down one of the more high-end streets of Rome, storefronts decked with designer clothing and sellers offering him spritzes of fancy fragrances as he passed. They usually avoided these areas, mostly because of the fear that just walking through them would have a price tag, but part of him simply didn’t want to be reminded of the presence of America wherever he turned. The buildings on streets like this one were newer, fancier, clearly designed to look luxurious, and sure, he could see the appeal, but he had come to prefer the older parts of Rome far more. The buildings that truly carried history, every brick another tale. Floorboards that creaked with every step as though eager to spill its secrets, cobblestoned streets that led him deeper and deeper into stories of ancient myths and forgotten lovers. He listened as the wind echoed their voices and knew that, someday, he would join them. 

Half an hour later he crossed the Tiber back to Trastevere. Connor’s shift didn’t end for another hour or so, and it was too nice of a day to stay inside. He strolled down the same road he and Connor had walked many times now, the concrete familiar beneath him, and soon found himself in Connor’s favorite book shop. Maybe he could pick up something for him, something that was more of a cult classic and less of a, well, cult. 

The shop owner, Federico, greeted him with a wide grin. He knew Connor by name because he stopped by at least once a week, and he knew Kevin as Connor’s _dolce metà_. The first time he had called him that, Kevin had dug out his pocket dictionary the moment he was alone, and while he couldn’t find a direct translation, he learned that _dolce_ meant sweet, and _metà_ meant half. He might not speak Italian, but he could put two and two together and take a wild guess that it was some form of a pet name. 

Needless to say, he hadn’t complained the second time Federico greeted him with it. 

He stopped at the corner of a row of shelves; the spot Connor always made a beeline for. It was labeled as _Selezione di Federico_ , which implied nothing else than it being the owner’s personal favorites. Kevin believed that to be the case until Connor referred to it as Queer Corner and first then did he realize the common denominator the books on the shelf all shared. 

It wasn’t a secret by any means. Though same-sex marriage was still not legal, queer couples were recognized as though they were, and Connor had told him after a later visit that Federico met his to-be-husband (as soon as legally possible) in that very corner over thirty years ago. It was corny and touching all the same, but as he flipped through pages written a century before his time, he couldn’t help but feel validated. There were people like him long, long ago, and there would be millions more to come. 

His eyes landed on a book with a simple motive on the cover. A window, and above it, written in cursive letters: _a room with a view_ by E.M. Forster. He recognized the author from another book in Connor’s collection, though he couldn’t remember the name at this moment. It looked to be a bit worn, much like many of the books in Federico’s shop were. That’s what secondhand is, and though some might find it appalling to buy something previously owned or used by a stranger, Connor thought it gave the books all the more character. 

And of course, Kevin agreed with him. 

It took less than a minute for him to decide to buy it, and he handed a few euros to Federico before attempting his best “Buena notte,” which was instantly reciprocated with much better pronunciation. 

There was still some time before Connor’s shift ended, so he decided to head over to the riverside, find an unoccupied patch of grass, and read. The sun stood quite high, still, despite it nearing seven, and Kevin could bask in its light all day, would you let him. He found a semi-secluded spot near the bridge over to Isola Tiberino, the memory of last week’s drunken escapade on the island still vivid in his mind. As he sat down and dug the book out of his bag, he noticed a dog ear on one of the pages. That was another, quite magical perk of buying secondhand, sometimes you got to read a story through someone else’s eyes. 

He flipped the book open to the marked page, despite it being one of the very last ones, and his eyes immediately found the highlighted words: 

_It isn’t possible to love and part. You will wish that it was. You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you. I know by experience that the poets are right: love is eternal._

His phone beeped before he could spoil the book entirely, and he picked it up to find a text from Connor. 

**Connor**   
Got off early. You home?

_Home_. God, he believed he might just be.

  
**Kevin**   
On the grass left of Pons Cestius.  


  
**Connor**   
  
On my way.

Twenty minutes later, Connor plopped down beside him, still in his work clothes. His attention was instantly directed to the book in Kevin’s hands. 

“You bought this today?” he asked. Kevin nodded. “It’s a good one.” 

“You’ve read it?” 

Connor smiled. “Yeah. Lost my copy to some very cheap wine a few months ago, though. Pro tip: don’t use books as coasters unless you’re superhumanly steady-handed.” 

Kevin wrinkled his nose and laughed. “You can have mine if you want.” 

“Nah. I’m worried you’ll resort to Scientology if you don’t have anything else to read.” Connor shot him a smirk that Kevin responded with a pointed glare. “Keep it. I’ll find another.” 

Time always seemed to move a lot faster when he was with Connor. The day had gone by slower than ever from the moment Connor left that morning, and now it was already getting dark, the sun barely visible anymore. They had moved, too. That was another thing they always seemed to do, roaming the streets, discovering new places to sit and talk, or make out, or get plastered on fruity wine and hard cider. Kevin hadn’t told Connor this, but he often revisited these places on days when Connor worked. There was just something special about sitting in those memories for as long as he physically could. 

They ended up on one of Kevin’s favorite piazzas on the other side of the river, and Connor soon dragged him along to a mall close by, even as Kevin pointed out they would be closed at this hour. 

“The mall might be closed, but this”—he gestured to the side of the entrance where a rundown photobooth stood—“is open round the clock.” 

“I didn’t know these existed anymore.” 

Connor laughed. “They hardly do.” He shrugged, turning to Kevin with a smile. “You got any change?” 

Kevin made a show of digging through his pockets and handing over a few coins which only made Connor laugh harder, and when Connor laughed, it wasn’t long before Kevin did, too. They crammed themselves into the small space, Connor ending up sort of on Kevin’s lap, but before Kevin could comment on it, Connor was saying, “Charlie’s Angels!” and forming a gun with his hands as he turned his back toward Kevin who hurriedly copied the pose. A second later, the camera flashed, and Connor laughed before telling Kevin it was his turn. 

“I, um. Rollercoaster?” And Connor did not waste any time throwing his hands in the air and damn near screaming. He really did have a flair for the dramatic, and Kevin could barely make it through the pose without laughing. 

“Okay, here,” Connor said after the second flash, holding his left hand in the air, thumb extended and fingers curled, as he grabbed for Kevin’s right, and only when he mimicked the hand gesture, he realized it formed a heart. The one in his chest skipped a beat when their hands connected. Connor told him to smile but he couldn’t even manage to turn his head facing forward, and after the third flash, Connor was telling him it was his turn again, and Kevin knew exactly what he wanted. 

He thought he heard the sound of the fourth flash but he couldn’t be sure because Connor’s hands were cradling his face and their lips were moving in unison and the earth stopped spinning, turned on its own fucking head as Kevin’s heart raced. And all he could think about while time stood still around them was those highlighted words. _It isn’t possible to love and part_. How could he possibly leave when this felt more like home to him than anything had before? 

For the very first time, Kevin allowed himself to admit he was completely and utterly in love with Connor McKinley. And he prayed that someday, he might just love him back. 

“If this is what you had in mind, you should’ve just told me.” Connor smiled against his lips and Kevin felt his cheeks burn red. “Hold that thought till we get back home, but I gotta see the photos first.” 

Connor left first with Kevin close behind and snagged the film strip from where it had printed, inspecting it with a smile. Kevin peeked over his shoulder and couldn’t help but break into a smile as well. The flash had gone off before Connor’s hands had reached his face, the kiss looking almost innocent. 

Without a second thought, he grabbed the strip from Connor’s hands and dug his copy of _A Room with a View_ out of his bag, earning a surprised sound quickly followed by a scoff from Connor as he placed it where he had stopped reading earlier. “Hey!” 

Kevin grinned. “I paid for it.” 

Connor’s eyes briefly narrowed before he began laughing. “What are you gonna do with it?” 

“What am I—” Kevin blushed, because of course he did. “That’s… a weird question to ask. I’m not gonna do anything.” 

Connor’s eyebrow arched slightly, barely enough to be noticeable, before he pulled a pen out from his pocket and reached for the book. “At least let me…” He didn’t finish but fished the strip out of the book again, turning it over and scribbling something on the back before handing both back to Kevin. “There. So you won’t forget me.” 

Kevin wanted to tell him he would not— _could not_ —ever forget him, but if eloquence was a rose then Kevin kept getting caught on its thorns, and the words he finally managed to voice were, “As if.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic really just do be conversations, huh? But that's on me for daydreaming up more dialogue than I can fit in lmao.
> 
> Anyway, a big thanks to blackcatsocks on tumblr for helping me create the natal charts for Kev and Con in this, and to TurnIt0ff on here (@likealightsw1tch) for helping me realize Arnold would _definitely_ be a kooky science teacher. And, of course, thank you to everyone who's still reading this despite the slow updates. It might get even slower over the coming weeks/months as I'm heading into a v time-consuming and quite frankly anxiety-ridden part of the semester. But bear with me, this fic will have an ending.
> 
> Thanks again for reading! Feel free to drop a comment below if you liked it. It fuels the tiny motivation spark within me just a lil bit every time. 
> 
> Stay safe and drink some water, she says, sipping on some coke. 
> 
> The drink, not the drug. Because famously, you sip cocaine. I'm tired.


End file.
